Where there's Smoak, there's fire
by FelOllie
Summary: Begins on the heels of "State vs Queen", and the aftermath of The Count's attack. Five years later, when the past comes back to haunt them, can Oliver finally accept that he is a man deserving of love? In a race against time, will he ever have the chance to tell her how much she truly means to him?
1. Tasting Thunder

**Author's note: Hey guys! I really hope you enjoy this fic. I've worked hard on it, and I want you to love it. Please review, and let me know what you think. I'm eager for your opinions.**

**Disclaimer: Arrow and its characters are the property of DC comics and The CW. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I do not own Oliver Queen, though, how awesome would that be?**

* * *

Three months... Three long, exhausting, excruciatingly painful months.

Felicity sat with her back flush against the concrete wall, her knees bent, bare feet flat against the training mat, her glasses tossed carelessly beside her. She'd like to say that she had no idea what brought her here, what had drawn her into the Foundry at this ridiculous hour. She'd like to say she had no idea why she found herself sitting on the training mats, a half-empty bottle of 100 proof rum dangling between her raised knees as she tried to blend in with her surroundings. Sure, she'd like to say that, but Felicity Smoak is no liar.

Her phone beeped beside her, it's half-hearted attempt to convince her to pick it up, just this once, and respond to the incessant trill of her ringtone.

"Nope," she informed her, normally well loved, piece of technology "Not gonna happen."

She clicked the phone off, before raising the bottle to her lips. She'd been sitting here for what felt like days, but she knew it to be only a few hours. As the contents of her bottle had begun to dwindle, so had the pain that had lodged itself firmly in her chest. The knot of terror that seemed to be tied around her heart felt just a little looser with every sip of the deep amber liquid. The tears had stopped falling after a few sips, and her hands had finally stopped shaking long enough for her to send a text to John, letting him know that she was alive.

Alive was the only word she felt confident using, at this point. She wasn't okay, and she most _definitely_ wasn't fine, but she had to let John know she was still alive and kicking so that he wouldn't come looking for her. Or worse, send Oliver.

She knew he had the best intention, wanting to look out for her, to keep her safe, but seeing Oliver tonight would only add to the drunken swirl of emotional bullshit she was currently trying to drown.

She tipped the bottle back, again, savoring the burn as it settled low in her belly. She let her head fall back against the wall, trying to focus on the warmth that spread through her limbs, instead of the crawling she felt when her traitorous brain conjured the memory of Count Crazy-ass playing with the ends of her hair, trailing his fingers over her skin, or leaning in close to whisper threats against her ear.

She shuddered, gripping the bottle tighter, and once again, raising it to her lips. The tears she thought had long dried up, once more pricked behind her eyes. Her vision swam, distorting the comforting view she had of the mostly dark, empty, Foundry. Her head thudded against the wall, painfully, though she paid it no mind. Once the tears started again, she was lost to her surroundings. Drops of her pain scorched down her cheeks, dampening the blonde hair hanging limply around her face. She bit her lip, hard, trying to distract her mind from the dangerous memories it insisted on going over, and over.

She tasted blood, long before her brain realized that her body was sending pain signals. She lifted the bottle, wincing slightly as the rum stung in her torn lip. She'd take physical pain over this emotional torture, any day of the week.

"Felicity?"

The sound of her name ringing out through the silence made her jump, banging her head against the wall, in the process.

"Shit," he growled, between clenched teeth, stalking forward. "Are you okay?"

"Oliver, what are you doing here?" she whined, hoping that the slur to her speech was due to alcohol and not some form of brain damage from repeatedly bouncing her head off the wall.

"I should be asking you that. Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked, crossing the mats to sit beside her.

She shook her head quickly, regretting the action when her brain felt like it was sloshing around in her skull. She put a hand out to steady herself, grasping his knee for support. Oliver pressed his hand across her back, trying to help her find her equilibrium. The dwindling bottle of hard liquor had not gone unnoticed by him. He yanked it from between her knees, smirking when she whimpered.

He took a long draught, before handing the bottle back to the mystified blonde beside him. She eyed him, speculatively, then followed his lead.

"I'm onto you, Queen." she informed him, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth, before waving her pointer finger in his face, and poking him lightly on the nose.

The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement as he took in the state of her. He'd never seen Felicity so much as tipsy before, much less the state of inebriation she currently seemed to be enjoying.

"How's that, Smoak?" he inquired, snagging the bottle from her before she could protest.

"Digg sent you to find me, and you're going to make me go home like the good little IT girl I'm supposed to be." she slurred, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Digg didn't send me." he told her. "I came because you haven't answered my calls, and I was worried about you."

"But, you're still going to make me go home."

"Not yet." he promised, handing her back the bottle.

She could see the hesitation in his eyes, a beat before he shuttered them, "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

"What am I supposed to say, Oliver?" she begged, the softness of his tone bringing the tears back to her eyes. "Do you want me to say that I'm fine? I'm perfectly happy, my life is all rainbows and unicorns? Not a thing could possibly be wrong, which is why I'm sitting in the Arrow Cave, alone, drowning myself in rum like some kind of crazy blonde pirate, wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow me?"

"I want you to tell me the truth." he sighed, laying his hand over hers where it rested on her knee.

She bolted up from the mat, leaving the bottle in her stead. Her feet began pacing before her mind thought to tell them to. His eyes followed her movements, but he waited for her to get where she was trying to be.

"The truth?" she finally laughed, humorlessly and without any of her usual sparkle. "The truth is that I feel like I died three months ago, Oliver! I feel like that night was the end of my life, and now I'm stuck in this purgatory, somewhere between death and wishing I was dead. I feel like I'm drowning, all the time, and sometimes it hurts so much that I can't breathe!"

Her words were coming fast, with no halting breaths in between. Her hand was clasped around her throat, her nails biting into the delicate skin there. Her chest was heaving, struggling to find any trace of oxygen, though Oliver knew there was none to be found.

"I feel like no matter what I do, he's there. He's watching, just waiting for me to slip up so he can finish what he started. I can't sleep, I can't eat, and I can't breathe! I never feel safe, I never feel like I did before... before... before..."

Oliver watched as she she struggled for air, her knees giving out beneath her. Her tiny frame sank to the mat, her hands pushing into her hair as the sobs ripped from her throat. He was beside her in an instant, not even realizing he had moved. His arms snaked around her, pulling her shaking body against his solid chest. At once, he realized how much weight she had lost over the last three months. Her body was normally lithe, and well formed. She had curves and softness, her body innately feminine. But, as he held her, he could feel the bones of her spine, and ribs, beneath his hands. He could feel the sharpness of her hips bones as they dug into his flesh.

A powerful sadness gripped his heart, as he came to understand just how much she had truly been suffering. How had he let it, let _her_ get this bad? A sudden wave of shame cloaked him, forcing him to hold her tighter.

"Felicity." he whispered, knowing she'd hear him through her sobs, her ear pressed against his chest.

She lifted her head a fraction, but refused to meet his eyes.

"The Count is dead." he reminded her gently. "He can't hurt you, or anyone else, ever again."

"I know!" she moaned, pulling out of his grasp.

He didn't stop to think about how empty his arms suddenly felt.

"I know that he's dead. I know that you put those arrows in him, to save me. But, Oliver, don't you get it?" she plead for him to understand what she was trying to impart. "You broke your vow to Tommy, you broke your vow to yourself. And for what? Me? Do you see what I am?" she gestured at her self, waving a hand negligently down her body.

"I'm _nothing_, anymore. I'm just a shell. This was all for nothing. You broke your vow for _nothing_!" she sobbed.

Oliver shot to his feet, his legs quickly eating up the distance between them.

"Don't you dare!" he growled, his hands framing her tear-streaked face, forcing her to meet his eyes, "Don't, for a second, think that I regret what I did, or that it was somehow your fault. I told you then, and I'll tell you now: He had you, Felicity, and he was going to hurt you. There was no choice to make!"

His eyes bored into hers, begging her to understand that given the choice a thousand times over, he'd always make the same call. Her watery gaze flickered between his imploring eyes and the steely set of his mouth. He stroked his thumb over the sharp edge of her cheekbone, once again regretting how much he'd let her slip away.

Felicity finally closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. He let her collapse into his chest, his arms tightening around her.

"We'll get through this, Felicity, I swear. I'll help you in every way that I possibly can." he vowed, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

For a long moment, the only sound in the Foundry was the soft sniffles coming from the delicate woman he was trying to hold together.

Straightening, Felicity seemed to find a new reserve of strength. She left the encirclement of Oliver's arms, searching out the bottle she'd left on the mat. She found her glasses first, slipping them on before she grabbed up the bottle. She raised it to her mouth, forgetting the split in her lip, until the sting of the rum reminded her, making her wince.

"What happened to your lip?" Oliver asked, his tone dangerous.

She shook her head, feeling like she had already shared too much of her pain, for one night.

"Felicity." he growled.

"It's nothing. Honestly. I bit it." she told him, rolling her eyes. As she did, the room around her rolled with them, making her wobble, unsteadily.

He was beside her, moving so quickly she hadn't seen him close the distance. Suddenly, his hand was tilting her chin up, the rough pad of his thumb gently running over her bottom lip. She winced again, causing his eyes to darken.

"Come on." he ordered, taking her hand in his and pulling her toward the stairs.

She followed, dutifully, behind him, concentrating on not stumbling over her own feet. He led her up the stairs, and into the softly lit emptiness that was Verdant on a Monday night.

"What time is it?" she wondered aloud.

"Almost 4 AM." he informed her, tugging her along behind him.

As they reached the bar, Felicity squealed in surprise as Oliver rounded on her, his hands dropping to her waist and lifting her, before placing her firmly on the bar.

"Don't move." he told her, in a tone not meant to be argued with.

Felicity nodded, gripping the edge of the bar to keep herself upright.

Oliver disappeared behind her, reemerging seconds later with a glass full of ice and a white towel. He moved back around, to stand in front of her, setting the glass down beside her hip. She grinned at him, lopsidedly, tilting her head slightly.

He couldn't help but grin back, shaking his head in reluctant amusement. He took a few ice cubes from the glass, wrapped them in the towel, and stepped forward to press them to her bottom lip, where her teeth had torn through. The angle was awkward, so he nudged her knee with his ribs, asking her to part them so he could stand in-between.

Felicity did as he silently asked, without hesitation. As he slid between her thighs, she couldn't stop the way her breath hitched, and her legs tightened around his ribs.

Oliver's eyes leapt from her mouth, to her eyes, one eyebrow arching in surprise.

Felicity was normally so careful, and reserved, in the way she touched him. She was deliberate when she reached for him, always for comfort or reassurance. It sometimes felt like she was waiting for him to reprimand her, or reject her touch. He wondered if she ever thought that maybe he craved it, as much as she did.

Felicity blushed, before lifting her hand to replace his on the makeshift ice pack. She was surprised when he didn't immediately step back from between her legs, instead opting to rest his hands on either side of her jean-clad thighs. She'd never know if it was his touch or the alcohol that made the words leave her mouth.

"This?" she began, waving a hand from his heart to hers. "This is an eventuality."

Oliver froze. His first instinct was to deny her words. To step out of her grasp, and let the shadow of pain slide over her face at his rejection. He knew, damn well, the feelings she had for him. He saw it, everyday, in the way she talked to him, or interacted, so different from the way she was with Diggle. Worse, she knew that he knew. He suspected it was why she was more careful with him, than anyone else. She had an easy intimacy with Digg, a strictly platonic, but affectionate camaraderie. She could touch Digg, press kisses to his cheek, let him wrap her in a casual hug, and it was all so... _easy_.

He knew she was trying to protect herself, to keep her heart from being broken. However, another part of him knew that she kept herself carefully distant to protect him. Felicity knew that he wasn't ready for any kind of relationship, or entanglement, and she respected it. Knowing the reasons behind it didn't do a damn thing to stop the jealousy he felt when he observed her with Digg.

He considered throwing up the walls, backing away now, before things got treacherous. But, something in her eyes wouldn't allow it. There was no doubt in their watery, blue depths. There was no hesitation, no fear. It just simply was. Oliver decided to take the risk and share one open, honest moment with the woman before him. After all, what was the point in denying what they both, apparently, knew?

"I know." he admitted, his eyes never leaving hers.

Felicity wasn't sure she heard correctly. The booze must be muddling her hearing, as well as her brain. "You know?" she repeated incredulously.

He simply stared at her, his mouth set in a determined line.

"How long have you known?" she asked, unable to stop the question, since he had opened the honesty flood-gate.

"Since the moment you told me that if I wasn't leaving, neither were you." He smiled, remembering the determined glint in her eye as she argued with him. She had risked her life to stay, to fight up to the last second, as Malcolm Merlyn's plan to decimate The Glades had unfolded around them.

"That was like... eight months ago." she breathed, unable to find the strength for her voice.

Oliver stayed silent, watching the thoughts and emotions swirl in her eyes.

"You never said... You always... I... Wow." she sputtered.

"It doesn't change anything, Felicity. It can't. I'm still not in a place where I can be with someone..." he took a deep breath, jumping in with both feet, "Someone I love. I want to be, I just don't know if I ever will."

Felicity grinned then, her smile brighter than he'd seen in months. "Oliver Queen..." she said softly, her tongue caressing his name, "You just said you love me."

"I never said I didn't." A smile tugging at his mouth, again.

"But, loving and being _in_ love, are different things." she stated.

There was no accusation or bitterness to her tone, it was just the facts as she saw them.

"Yes, they are different. Though, one doesn't necessarily negate the other." he told her, asking her to understand, as his thumb reached up to ghost over her cheek. "I won't... I _can't_ ever lose you, Felicity. And, right now, this is how this has to be." he said, mimicking her gesture from his heart, to hers.

She was quiet for a long moment, his words echoing around in her head. She was desperately trying to see things the way he was seeing them. He loved her, could fall in love with her if given the chance. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her, and for the time being, what they had was enough for him.

Was it enough for her? Was this weird place between friends and lovers enough for her to hold onto? Was it enough to make her willing to wait for her own knight in leather armor, no matter how long that might take?

"Okay."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up, his jaw falling open in evident surprise. "Okay?" he asked, unsure of what it was she was accepting.

"Okay, Oliver." She nodded, her palm finding his heart as she leaned into him, "You love me, and the idea of losing me scares the hell out of you. You're not ready to take the risk with your heart, or mine. Or, my life, for that matter. I can respect that. You need time, and I've got all the time in the world."

Oliver stared at her, shock playing clearly over his features. He was in complete awe of the woman he saw. With all of the pain she was in, all of the fear that plagued her life, she could still accept him for what he was: Broken.

"I can't ask you to make that choice." he replied thickly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

"You're not asking." she said simply, but sincerely. "I'm a grown woman, Oliver. This is my choice to make, and I'm making it."

Through all of her own issues, she somehow managed to focus on him, and what he needed, rather than her own needs. She made him a priority in her life, in her world, and somewhere along the way, he had done the same.

He was amazed to realize that this tiny blonde hurricane had become his own, personal, safe harbor. She was a wrecking ball, of the very best kind, breaking through his carefully constructed walls, and hitting him where it counted.

"You are remarkable." he breathed, the warmth of the words washing over her skin.

"Thank you for remarking on it." She smirked, a bit of sparkle returning to her eyes.

She took a deep breath, debating with herself for a beat, before deciding that she could risk it, this once, in order to take back a little bit of control.

She leaned forward, closing the infinitesimal distance between them, and pressed a kiss against his lips. She lingered, only briefly, before pulling away.

"What was that for?" he asked, surprised, again, by her touch.

"Something to hold onto." She grinned.

Oliver's chest tightened at her words, for the first time, fully accepting that he wanted something to hold onto. Though, if he was holding on, then he was holding on for dear life.

Throwing caution to the wind, he sank his hands into her hair, pulling her lips down to his. He slanted his lips under hers, desperate to pour everything he had into her, to give her something, even a fraction, of what she gave to him.

That was the first time Felicity tasted thunder.


	2. Five Years Later

**Author's note: Thank you guys, so much, for all of the reviews of the first chapter! I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying the story. I wanted to give you a BIG heads up:**

**This story got a little darker than I was originally intending. There's some major angst/_serious_ violence coming in later chapters. I'm telling you now, so that you can decide whether or not you want to invest yourself in the story, or nope on out of here. Please remember, this fic is rated M for good reason.**

**Ok, here we go!**

* * *

**Five years later:**

"Hey." Felicity greeted, as she slid into the red vinyl booth, where Digg and Lyla were already seated.

"Good morning." Lyla responded, smiling brightly at her.

"Where's Oliver?" Digg inquired, sure that if anyone knew why he was late, it would be Felicity.

"He said he was being held hostage by Thea." she explained, grinning. "But, he was making his escape and would be here soon."

The four of them had had a standing date for the past four years. Every Sunday morning, no matter what else was going on in their worlds, they met at Ginny's Diner for breakfast. They took time out of the hectic chaos that was their lives, and simply enjoyed the company of their patch-work family.

"How are you feeling?" Felicity asked, turning sympathetic eyes on the brunette sitting beside her favorite bodyguard.

Lyla rolled her eyes. "Like I'm dying for some pancakes, though I'm sure I'll regret it." she finished, with a laugh.

"She's still struggling with the morning sickness." John offered, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulder in support.

"General sickness would be more accurate." she told Felicity, rubbing her small, but rounded belly. "They neglect to tell you that it lasts. All. Day."

Felicity pulled a large, square tin from the depths of her purse, pushing it across the table. "I did some research, and this tea is supposed to help. It's made from all organic ingredients, like, ginger, raspberry leaf, and citrus rind. Drink it before you eat, and it should help you keep food down."

Lyla smiled, brightly, taking the tin and glancing it over. "Thank you, Felicity, that's so sweet of you."

"That's our Felicity, always thinking." Oliver grinned, appearing beside their booth. He bent down to press a kiss to Lyla's cheek before sliding in next to Felicity and repeating the gesture. "What did I miss?"

"Felicity being the absolute best." Digg informed him, winking at her.

"So, nothing then?" Oliver smirked, draping his arm over the back of their bench seat.

"Everything alright with Thea?" asked Digg.

Oliver nodded, but Felicity could see the tense set of his shoulders. "She and Roy are leaving for Gotham tonight, and she's trying to squeeze as much time out of me, as she can manage, before then."

"Oh right, the internship at Wayne Enterprises. I bet she's excited." said Lyla, glancing up from her tin of tea.

Felicity noticed the muscle in Oliver's jaw tick.

He was doing his best to be supportive, but that didn't stop the worry that he felt at the idea of his baby sister being in Gotham, where he couldn't protect her.

"She'll be safe, Oliver. Bruce promised to keep an eye on her." Felicity reminded him, squeezing his knee reassuringly.

"Besides, Roy would rather die, than let anything happen to Thea." Diggle commented, his knowing glance bouncing between Oliver and Felicity.

Oliver nodded stiffly, but didn't respond.

The waitress brought their usual coffee, and a pitcher of water, placing it on the table between them. Lyla asked for a mug of hot water, eager to test out her new found herbal remedy, before placing her order for a short stack of pancakes. Diggle smiled indulgently at his wife, ordering his usual eggs and hash. Felicity asked for oatmeal with a side of fruit, while Oliver decided on a western omelette.

As their waitress drifted away to place their order, Felicity settled back into her seat, resting her head against the arm Oliver had propped along the back of her seat, letting her eyes slide shut.

"Tired?" he asked, shifting on the bench to angle his body toward her.

She nodded, not lifting her head. "I didn't get much sleep. My new program has been giving me grief, and I ended up staying up until dawn working on it."

"Solve the problem?" Diggle asked.

"Yeah, eventually." She laughed. "Who needs sleep anyway?"

"You should have stayed home. Slept in." Lyla scolded, her maternal instincts apparently already in full swing.

Felicity lifted her head to meet her friend's eyes, smiling, "And miss Sunday breakfast? Not a chance."

"At least make time for a cat nap, then." Lyla insisted.

"Deal." Oliver said, earning himself an eye roll from the blonde beside him.

"I'll make sure to get some rest." Felicity agreed.

"That's what I just said." Oliver told her, his face perfectly blank.

Felicity elbowed him lightly in the ribs, grinning when he tightened the arm behind her, looping it around her shoulders, and pulled her against his side with a gentle squeeze.

"So," Oliver turned eyes to Digg, "did you guys settle the gender debate, yet?"

Lyla laughed, shaking her head. "No. Not even close."

"She's being stubborn." Digg complained, trying to look annoyed but not fooling anyone. "How are we supposed to decorate the nursery if we don't know what colors to use?"

Oliver shrugged, genuinely having no idea. Interior decorating, especially for a nursery, was not in his area of expertise.

"Use neutral colors." Felicity suggested, as if it were the simplest solution in the world.

"That's exactly what I said." Lyla nodded her agreement. "I was thinking gray and white, with splashes of red for some color."

"What's wrong with blue or pink?" Digg asked, sounding as clueless as Oliver felt.

"There's nothing _wrong _with them. They're just so..." Lyla trailed off, searching for the words to express what she was thinking.

"Typical?" Felicity supplied.

"Yes!" Lyla grinned. "Typical. Exactly."

"And, typical is bad?" Oliver asked, trying to see the issue from their point of view.

"Oliver, look at our lives." Lyla explained. "They're anything _but _typical. Every day, we do extraordinary things, accomplish the impossible. Raising a baby in this life was never something that I expected to do. But now, he, or she, is on their way, and I can't think of anything I've ever wanted more. I want our baby to know that they are the single most important thing we've ever done with our lives, and I don't feel like I can do that by just throwing some pink or blue paint on a wall. I know it seems like something really small, and insignificant, but it's important to me that the nursery is as special as this baby is, to us."

"I have to say I can see Lyla's reasoning." Oliver shrugged, giving Digg a "sorry man, you're waging a losing battle" look.

"We can still decorate the nursery any way we want, I just want to know if it's a boy or a girl." Digg, argued, but Oliver could see the fight leaving him.

"And ruin the surprise?" Lyla winked at her husband, knowing she'd won the war.

Diggle laughed, shaking his head in defeat, as their waitress returned with their meal, and topped off their coffees.

The foursome ate, chatting amiably about their weeks, and what they had planned for the week upcoming. It was nice, for all of them, to have this time. It gave them the chance to pretend, if only for an hour or two, that they were just like everyone else. They had no greater purpose, no heavy responsibility to the city. Here, there was no danger, no life-threatening emergencies. They were just a family, like any other, enjoying a Sunday breakfast.

Oliver tried to focus on the conversation around him, to pay attention to what his friends were saying. He tried to think of anything other than Thea leaving, but his mind seemed to wander back to it, every chance it had.

In his heart, he knew that Bruce would do his best to keep her safe. After all, the flying rodent owed him a favor or two. But, Oliver wasn't used to entrusting the lives of the people he loved, to someone else.

If he was honest with himself, Oliver was glad that if Thea felt the need to put some distance between herself and their mother, while she honed her skills, she was doing it somewhere that he had eyes to watch her. If she had taken the internship in Paris, he'd have a much harder time keeping tabs on her. In Gotham, he'd know the minute she hit any kind of snag.

Digg was right, too. Roy would do everything in his power to keep Thea safe. He hadn't thought so, at first, but Oliver had to admit that Roy turned out to be good for her. He kept her out of harm's way, and when things got dicey, he was the first to lay his life down for her. What more could Oliver ask for?

"Earth to Oliver!" Felicity whispered, close to his ear.

He turned his gaze on her, surprised that everyone seemed to have finished eating, including himself. "Sorry. I spaced out, I guess." He shrugged, grateful when Felicity slipped her fingers into his hand. The contact grounded him, giving him an anchor to the present, instead of letting him drift into the future.

When had he started focusing on the future, more than the past? He was startled to realize the shift in his own thinking.

"You guys have any plans today?" Lyla asked, leaning back in her seat, her brown hair falling over her shoulders.

"I'm making Oliver partake in a Sherlock marathon." Felicity told her, grinning wickedly.

"Speaking of which," Oliver stood from the bench seat, holding a hand out to help Felicity to her feet. "We have to stop by your place to pick up the DVD's."

"I want to grab a change of clothes, anyway." she told him, shrugging into the jacket he held open for her. "Jeans are not exactly optimal marathon gear."

"I didn't know there was such a thing." Digg chuckled, lifting his coffee to his lips.

"Yoga pants and a hoodie are the way to go, my friend." Felicity grinned.

Oliver snagged the bill from the waitress as she approached the table, before bending down to press a goodbye kiss to Lyla's cheek. He left Felicity to say her goodbyes, before Digg could argue over his paying the bill.

Again.

"Ready?" he asked Felicity, his hand dipping to the small of her back, upon his return.

"Ready." She smiled up at him, letting him guide her toward the exit.

John and Lyla watched them go, a grin turning up the corners of Lyla's lips.

"What?" Digg asked, his eyebrow lifted in question.

"Nothing." she smiled up at him, planting a chaste kiss against his lips. "Nothing at all."

* * *

Settled in, among the oversized couch cushions, in her gray yoga pants and pink hoodie, Felicity watched as Oliver put the first DVD into the player. She never could figure out how to work the media center in the Queen Mansion, always leaving it to him. Oliver pushed in the tray before making his way across the room to plop down on the couch beside her.

Feeling her eyes on him, he turned his head toward her. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing." she laughed, shaking her head. "Not a thing."

He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward, into her personal space, the way he knew always threw her off. "You were staring." he accused.

"I was admiring." she corrected, her smile widening.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, leaning even further into her.

He heard her breathing pick up, as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

"Nothing." she repeated.

"I have ways of making you talk, Miss Smoak." he threatened, using his Arrow voice.

She leaned into him, her lips a breath away from his. "I am not afraid of you, Mr. Queen." she whispered, grinning widely when his eyes slid closed.

She sat back against the throw pillow, clearly proud of herself.

"You'll regret that." he warned.

"And how do you plan-" she began, cut off when he launched himself across the space between them.

Felicity squeaked in surprise as he dragged her body beneath his, pushing her down into the cushions. His fingers found the sensitive area along her ribs, slid down to her waist, applying the barest hint of pressure, and then easing up.

"Don't even think about it, Oliver." she hissed up at him, her eyes staring daggers into his.

"You know how I love a challenge, Felicity." He grinned salaciously.

His fingers dug into her sides, tickling her mercilessly. She screamed, thrashing under his weight, struggling to stop the giggles that were enveloping her.

"STOP IT!" she cried through her laughter.

Ignoring her pleas, he continued his attack, slipping his hands up to her ribcage, right below her breasts.

Her screams increased in volume, as did her giggles. She fought him, bucking her hips in an attempt to throw him off of her. Oliver had both knees secured on either side of her legs, effectively imprisoning her legs between his. No matter how much she twisted and struggled, he had her at his mercy. She made a valiant attempt, nonetheless. She managed to slide sideways, at least, until her head was hanging off the edge of the couch, her glasses sliding off of her face.

"Say it!" he demanded, his fingers finding their way to her stomach, tickling her into a frenzy of hysterical laughter, until tears were streaming from her eyes.

She fought the urge to do as he asked, shaking her head in denial.

The door across from where they were entwined banged against the wall. Oliver's hands stopped as he lifted his head, giving her the chance to draw a, much needed, breath. Felicity tilted her head back, to see Roy standing in the doorway, Thea peeking out from behind him.

"Jesus, Ollie, I thought she was dying!" Thea scolded, stepping out from behind her red wall of protection, and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I was. You just saved my life." Felicity told her breathlessly, upside down, and still pinned under Oliver's weight.

Oliver sat back on his heels, pulling her with him. He set her back against the cushions, shifting himself so that her legs were draped across his lap, as she pushed her glasses back into place.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue." Felicity smiled at Roy.

"Anytime." He laughed, dropping into the chair across from where they were seated. "Next time, put a sock on the door."

Thea burst into laughter, slapping a hand against Roy's chest as she perched on the arm of his chair. "Stop. You know it's not like that." she told him, rolling her eyes.

"Right." He smirked.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at his sister's boyfriend.

They'd heard this same sentiment, a million times over, in the last five years. Not only from Roy, of course, but he was the most vocal about it. No one seemed to comprehend how two people could be as close as he and Felicity were, spend as much time together as they did, and not be sleeping together. Neither Felicity, nor himself, felt the need to justify their relationship, but that did nothing to stop the speculation. In fact, it probably had the exact opposite effect.

Honestly, Oliver wasn't sure how to explain his relationship with Felicity, even if he wanted to. Friendship didn't begin to cover it, but they weren't lovers, either.

They loved each other. Absolutely.

One simply couldn't live without the other. They spent almost every hour of their days together, and most of their nights. Neither of them wanted it any other way.

Well, that wasn't exactly true... Both of them could do with a good dose of physicality. It just wasn't an option.

"Some respect, Roy." Oliver said quietly, though the threat was clear.

Roy shrugged, winking at Felicity.

She grinned in response. Felicity genuinely liked Roy. He was smart, funny, kind, and an all around good man. He loved Thea with all of his heart, and he respected Oliver, as both Thea's brother, and the Arrow. Roy was also sharp, often seeing things well before others saw them. He could find patterns and common threads almost as quickly as Felicity, herself. If he had a mind to, he could be great in IT. But, Roy's heart wasn't in it. He wanted nothing more than to follow in Oliver's footsteps. Something he was well on his way to accomplishing, already having developed a significant prowess with a bow.

"Are you all packed?" Felicity asked Thea, changing the subject.

Thea's face lit up. "Yup! All set."

"What time does your flight leave?"

"4 o'clock. I wanted to leave as late as possible, but still have time to settle in." Thea explained, and Felicity could see the sadness in her eyes.

"I'll miss you." Felicity told her, honestly.

Thea smiled, jumping from her place next to Roy, and crossing the room to wrap her arms around Felicity's shoulders.

"I'll miss you to, Licity." She hugged her. "You're the closest thing to a big sister I've ever had."

"Well, you have Oliver." Roy supplied, attempting, and failing, to dodge the throw pillow aimed at his head.

"So," Thea began, turning to nod at the television, "what are we watching?"

"Sherlock, series one." Oliver informed her, hitting play on the remote.

Thea snuggled in behind Felicity, propping her up against her side. Oliver watched the pair from the corner of his eye, as they settled in to watch the first episode. He found himself, once again, awestruck at Felicity's ability to charm everyone around her. From day one, Oliver had found her fascinating. She beguiled him, to the point that he couldn't even lie to her. When lies came so easily to him, where everyone else was involved, he couldn't seem to come up with anything close to believable with her.

And then, he'd introduced her to Thea. The two women could not be more different, but they had bonded instantly. Felicity taught Thea about computers, and Thea taught her about the world of high fashion.

Thea took to computers faster than Oliver would have guessed. She had a natural talent for them, quickly picking up everything Felicity taught her. Thea's newly acquired skills had come in handy, multiple times, at the Foundry, and now she was going to work on mastering them, at Wayne Enterprises.

Even Oliver's, quick to judge, no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-son, mother had fallen victim to Felicity's easy loving personality. On the nights that Felicity stayed at the mansion, Oliver could often find her in the kitchen, chatting and laughing with his mother and Raisa.

Everyone adored Felicity. Oliver, himself, had fallen for her, hard. She'd become a part of his world in ways that he'd thought no woman ever could. She was stitched into the very fabric of his life, an integral part of him.

So, why hadn't he taken the leap from "friends" to lovers? Why was he still unable to take that final step, and make her his in every way? What was it that he was so afraid of?

"You okay?" Felicity tapped her heel against his thigh, dragging him from his thoughts.

"I'm fine." he reassured her, squeezing her calf comfortingly.


	3. Old Habits Die Hard

**Author's note: Thanks for sticking with me! You really are the best :) I had a lot of fun writing the last part of this chapter, so I hope you guys love it!**

* * *

"Lightning." Oliver said, his voice deep and gravely.

"Be careful, boys." Felicity insisted, her fingers flying over the keys of her keyboard.

She hated the idea of her men, out fighting crime, while a storm raged around them. Especially, with Oliver's affinity for rooftops.

It had been three weeks, since Oliver, Felicity, and Diggle had said goodbye to Thea and Roy at the airport. Oliver had held Felicity against his side, comforting her, as tears slid silently down her cheeks. She hadn't realized how much she was going to miss the pair, until she had watched the plane taxi down the runway. When Oliver's own eyes had gotten misty, Digg had discreetly excused himself, slipping into the driver's seat of the Bentley.

His voice was the next to come over the comm-link.

"A storm is exactly what we need right now." John huffed, sarcasm lacing his words.

"Did you find anything?" Oliver asked, knowing that she hadn't. Yet.

Felicity growled under her breath, annoyed that she was having a hard time cracking the firewall she was working on.

"Did you just growl at me?" he ground out through teeth, she could tell were clenched, from halfway across the city.

Felicity tried not to smirk, hearing John's soft chuckles on the other end. "Not at you, exactly. More, in your general direction. Look," she told him, impatiently. "I'm working on it, but you talking to me is very distracting. Don't make me mute you!" she warned.

"You wouldn't." he dared.

"Don't push me, Queen. This firewall is a bitch, and she's not even pretending to respond to my very talented fingers." She cringed as the words left her mouth. "Talented as in I can manipulate technology to bend to my will, NOT talented as in... the other thing. Not to say that I lack skill in that department, just... I mean, you've experienced my skills, so you know how adept my fingers are, and OH MY GOD THAT IS NOT WHAT I -"

"Felicity?" Came Oliver's amused, but irritated, voice.

"Yes?"

"Focus."

"Right." She cringed again, as the blush crept over her skin.

She forced her attention back to the problem at hand, and on a hunch, tried the new code she'd been developing for stubborn security. As she entered the last command, adjusting it slightly, the firewall fell, leaving her free reign over the system she wanted into.

"YES!" She shouted. "I got it. Give me a minute, I'm looking."

Thirty seconds later she had their golden egg.

"Oliver, I found something. Reynolds has been shifting funds around, funneling money from the SCPD into a private bank account. It looks like he's been doing it for years! There's millions of dollars here." she informed them.

"Where is the money going?" he asked.

"He puts it into the islands, before bringing it back into Starling. Hang on." She halted him, pulling up another program, allowing her access to land records for the warehouse district of the Glades, frequented by criminals. Her eyes scanned the files, as she typed a search command for Reynolds and known associates. When the system pinged, a record filled her screen, leading her down another thread.

"Felicity..." Oliver called.

She reached up, muting her comm-link so she could focus. Something in her gut was telling her this was what they'd been looking for. Her eyes raked the document, two names glaring out at her, like neon lights.

Her fingers tapped desperately at the keys, begging this thread to lead her anywhere but where she saw it going. She held her breath as she followed its trail, winding through various programs and layers of cyberspace.

"Shit." she whispered, reaching up to un-mute her link.

"-I swear to God, I'll come back there-" She caught Oliver in the middle of his tirade.

"Oliver!" she shouted, dragging his attention back to her.

"What've you got?" he asked, picking up the desperate tone of her words.

"It's the Police Commissioner. He's been redirecting the money to pay off crooked cops, and the criminals on their payroll."

Felicity heard the snarl in his chest, even through the comm-link. If there was one thing Oliver hated, it was people who were sworn to uphold the law, breaking it, often times, worse than the criminals they claimed to protect the public from.

"Serve and protect, my ass." he bit out, and she could hear the disdain in every word.

Her hand trembled as she laid it flat, over her stomach, taking a deep breath to steady her voice. "I'm not done." she continued, unsuccessful in her attempt to keep the fear out of her tone.

"What?" he asked, already feeling the tightening in his gut at the way her voice broke over her words.

"There's another player here." She hated hearing the panic ring clearly in her own ears.

"Who?" Oliver demanded.

"The Count."

* * *

As he made his way down the stairs of the Foundry, he was alarmed to not find Felicity at her desk. His eyes searched around him, desperately seeking his blonde hurricane.

"Over here." Came her tiny voice, from behind him.

He spun on his heel, automatically moving toward the sound of her voice. He found her, exactly where he'd found her that night, all those years ago. She was sitting in the same spot, her head against the same wall, bare feet flat against the same mat, a bottle of 100 proof dangling between her knees.

"Old habits die hard." she informed him, lifting the bottle to her mouth.

Oliver dropped the hood, unzipped his green leather jacket, and let it fall to the ground. He was still wearing his green paint, but it never seemed to make a difference to her. She saw right through him, regardless.

He slid down the wall beside her, swiping the bottle before she had a chance to blink. He sipped the searing liquid, relishing the warmth it created in his chest. It'd been cold since the moment she spoken those two words.

_The Count_

"Why here?" Oliver asked curiously, gesturing to the mats beneath them.

"They smell like you. I feel safer, somehow, if I feel like you're close." she admitted, holding out her hand in silent request.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, handing her the bottle, but not before snagging another sip.

"Not much to talk about, really. Commissioner Wilhelm has been paying off criminals and crooked cops, running this city into the ground." She shrugged.

Oliver wasn't fooled. "And?" he prompted.

"And, he was connected to Count Crazy-ass, who tried to kill me? Who almost did." She shrugged again, pausing to pour a mouthful of rum into her open mouth. "Oh, right. Not to mention..." She trailed off, sliding a piece of paper across the mat toward him.

Confusion clouded his face, as he picked up the paper. To him, all he could see were strings of numbers and command prompts.

"I have no idea what I'm looking at." he told her, after making a valiant attempt at cracking it.

"Lucky you." she snorted.

"Felicity..." he began, turning his body towards her. "What am I looking at?"

"You, Mr. Arrow, are looking at a payment trail that your favorite IT expert managed to trace from Wilhelm's home computer, to its desired destination of one: Count Crazy-ass."

Oliver's eyebrows drew together, as he struggled to see what importance a five year old document held, other than confirming Count Vertigo's connection with the city's police commissioner. What was he supposed to be seeing? What was making his hellfire blonde slide backwards to the night she had collapsed into his arms, sobbing against his chest?

He watched as she gulped from her bottle, only stopping to come up for air. She turned her blue eyes on him then, and the fear that haunted them seemed fresher than he'd seen it in years.

"Did I forget to mention that it's from three months ago?" she asked, her tone dripping honey and venom.

Every muscle in Oliver's body tightened, almost painfully. His stomach dropped, and his heart rate picked up. None of which you could tell by looking at him, of course.

Unless you were Felicity Smoak.

"Bingo." she said, her mouth forming, and holding, the "O" shape.

"How do you know it's him?" Oliver asked, trying to see how she gleaned so much from the jumble of information on the paper.

"It's the same alias he used when Merlyn paid him. Same name, same account."

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but halted when he heard Digg coming down the stairs. He waited for John to hit the last step before calling him over.

"Diggle. We may have a problem." Oliver informed him, thrusting the paper up towards him.

John's eyebrows drew together, as he glanced from Oliver to Felicity, and back. Oliver nodded for Felicity to repeat her information. Before she'd even finished speaking, John's jaw was clenched, a muscle in his neck jumping.

"Do we know for sure it's him? Do we know for sure that he's _alive_?"

"We know that he knows who Oliver is. He knows who we are." Felicity gestured between herself and Digg.

"If he's alive, and that's a big if, why hasn't he outed you? He's had five years to do it." Digg questioned, his eyes trained on Oliver.

"Outed us." Oliver reminded him. "I don't know. We... I watched him die, Diggle. He fell, from my office window. He landed on a taxi!"

"Either, he's alive and he's got bigger plans, or someone is stepping into his shoes. Either way, this is a big problem." said Digg.

"He's alive." Felicity told them, her tone flat.

"Felicity," Oliver spoke softly, "we don't know that."

She sipped from her bottle, then shook her head. "I'm telling you, he's alive. I don't know how, but he is."

Oliver's eyes shifted to Digg, who nodded. If Felicity felt so strongly that The Count was alive, they couldn't doubt her. She had developed amazing instincts over the years, instincts that had saved them on more than a few occasions.

"Alright, he's alive." Oliver conceded. "But, that doesn't mean what it used to, Felicity. You are not who you were back then. You're much stronger now, more capable of protecting yourself."

"Not to mention," Digg interjected, "you're rarely ever out of Oliver's sight, these days."

"You're still safe, I promise you. No one is getting anywhere near you, without going through me and Digg first. Which, let's be honest, is unlikely." Oliver smirked, nudging her shoulder with his.

He was relieved when the ghost of a smile graced her lips. She stood, suddenly, making her way to her desk.

"What're you doing?" Oliver asked, as he watched her sink into her chair.

"Adding an alert to Wilhelm's and Reynolds' accounts. Any payments they make will trigger it, and we'll know where the money is going. We can follow it, and the Arrow can put the fear of God into them."

"Maybe one of them will know where The Count is. We might be able to get it out of them. No honor among thieves and all that." Diggle suggested.

"An arrow pointed at your heart can be very persuasive." Oliver pointed out, his tone dangerous.

"There." Felicity said, pushing away from her desk. "An alert will be sent to my phone the second money moves in either of their accounts."

Oliver stood, and crossed the room, stopping in front of her. He reached out, his hand touching her shoulder gently.

"Let me take you home."

* * *

Five minutes into the drive to the mansion, Felicity had fallen silent. Glancing at her, Oliver saw that she had fallen asleep, her head resting against the cool glass of the passenger-side window. He watched the rise and fall of her chest for a beat, before letting his eyes slide back to the road. It was well after midnight, but the road was still laden with traffic. The winter slush clung to the edges of the road, splashing up with every passing tire.

Oliver's mind wandered back to the day he had taken a chance, and crawled, bleeding, into the backseat of Felicity's car. He had been wounded, dying even, and she was the only person he knew he could trust. He hadn't known how he knew, but a part of him instinctively knew that she would keep his secret. And, she had, every day since.

His brain conjured images of her, that night, standing in the original "Arrow Cave" as she called it, covered in his blood. She had helped save his life, watched over him while he was unconscious, updated his system, and then hacked her way into the SCPD crime lab, ordering his blood sample be destroyed. She had done everything within her power to help him, and all she wanted in return was to help them find his step-father. She hadn't asked for anything more, anything in return. She simply did what she knew was right.

Oliver had been in awe of her, amazed that someone so honest, with such pure intentions, even existed anymore, much less in his world.

And then, she babbled her way into his heart, his very soul. He hadn't seen it coming. Hell, he'd even denied it, fighting it every step of the way, until he just couldn't do it anymore.

The night she'd been taken, Oliver had felt the irrevocable shift. The fear he felt as he listened to Felicity sob, as The Count taunted him. The blind rage he felt when he'd seen her strapped to the chair in his office, The Count running his fingers through her hair, touching her skin. And the abject terror that had overtaken him as The Count held the syringe full of Vertigo to her neck, her head yanked back by her ponytail.

He hadn't lied, to Felicity. Putting three arrows in his chest had been the only option. Oliver hadn't even thought about it until after The Count had gone through the window, hadn't hesitated to take a life in order to save hers.

He remembered the way she had jumped when he touched her, breaking his heart. He remembered how the first thing she worried about was that he'd been shot, rather than the fact that she'd almost died.

Then, again in the Foundry, she had apologized for putting him in a position to have to choose to kill The Count. He felt absolute conviction when he'd held her hand and told her there had been no choice. Saving her was the only thing he could have done, whatever the consequences might have been.

His normally twenty minute drive, felt like it passed in the blink of an eye. Oliver drove up the driveway, after clearing security, and parked at the front door. His passenger didn't so much as flinch when he shut the driver's side door, or when the cold air rushed in around her when he opened her door.

"Felicity." he called softly, not wanting to frighten her. He crouched down beside the car, laying his hand over hers, rubbing circles into her smooth skin. "Felicity." he tried again, a bit louder.

She hummed a response, but didn't move. He chuckled quietly, reminded of the many times he had tried to move her from a couch where she had fallen asleep, and into a bed.

"Felicity, we're here." he told her, shaking her lightly.

Her eyes blinked open, behind her glasses, the blues illuminated by the full moon hanging in the sky. Her gaze sought his, smiling when she found it. Her head fell back against the seat, as she looked behind him. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. "I thought you were taking me home?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"I did. My home." He smiled, slipping her arm over his head, looping it around his neck to help her from the car.

"I don't have any clothes." she informed him, as he dragged her into a standing position, shifting her weight so he could bump the door closed with his hip.

"You can sleep in one of my shirts."

"I don't have clothes for tomorrow." she mumbled, as he led her up to the door, propping her against his side to slip his key into the lock.

"I'm sure Thea wouldn't mind if you borrowed something." he said, pulling her through the front door, and then pushing it closed with his heel.

"Mmmmkay." she hummed, as he led her towards the stairs.

"Can you walk them?" he asked, before turning to see that her eyes had slid shut.

He bent, hooking an arm behind her knees, and lifted her. She immediately tightened her arms around his neck, her face pressing into his throat. He could feel the warmth of her even breaths caressing his skin, sending sparks of sensation thrumming through him.

He carried her up the stairs, hanging a left and pushing open his bedroom door. Once inside, he kicked the door closed, wincing when the loud noise made her flinch against him. He crossed the room, setting her down on the edge of his bed, keeping her upright.

"Hey." He cupped her neck, tilting her head so he could see her face, "You need to change."

She nodded, opening her eyes and reaching for the buttons on her coat. Oliver bent to help her, untying the belt, and sliding it off her shoulders. Once he was sure she could hold herself up, he went to his bureau, pulling a white cotton t-shirt from the top drawer and bringing it back to her.

"Do you want me to help, or do you have this covered?" he asked, squatting in front of her, looking up into her face.

Her eyes met his and she smiled again. "I can do it." She nodded, reaching for the hem of her sweatshirt. She struggled to pull it above her waist, looking down at the offending fabric with a frown.

Oliver chuckled, stilling her hands. "Here." he told her, pulling her glasses off, and grinning at the look of confusion on her face.

Oliver set her glasses on the nightstand, and the t-shirt beside her on the bed, reaching for the hem of her bright pink hoodie. He lifted it over her head, leaving her in a white cami. He pulled the t-shirt over her head, dragging it down until it pooled around her hips.

Crossing the room, he opened his closet to hang her jacket and hoodie inside, beside his own. He closed the door, turning to find Felicity struggling to take her bra off under his baggy t-shirt.

"Why don't you just leave it on tonight?" he asked, though he already knew her answer, before she sleepily delivered it.

"I can't sleep in a bra. It's too uncomfortable."

Sighing, Oliver moved behind her, lifting the back of the t-shirt to unclasp her bra.

"I imagined this much differently." Felicity pouted.

"Which part?" Oliver asked as he dragged her bra from beneath the t-shirt, letting it fall to the floor beside her.

"You taking my clothes off."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head as he kneeled next to her, pulling her boots and socks off, setting them next to her. He helped her stand, and made sure she was steady on her feet.

"Lift your t-shirt." he ordered.

She obeyed instantly, bunching the fabric around her waist. Oliver slipped a finger behind the button of her jeans, his knuckles grazing her belly. She sucked in a breath, her muscles fluttering beneath his touch. His hand stalled for a beat, before he popped the button and dragged the zipper down.

"You can let it go now." he informed her, thickly, tugging the t-shirt back over her hips. "Take your jeans off."

She hooked her thumbs into the waist of her pants, shimmying them down her thighs. Oliver helped her step out of them, keeping a hand on her hip when he saw her sway unsteadily. He folded her jeans, setting them with the rest of her stuff.

When he turned back to her, he got a tantalizing view of her thighs, his shirt having ridden up while she fought to unwind the hair-tie holding back her blonde curls. She managed to free her strands, running her fingers through them in relief.

"Done. Crawl in." he told her, lifting his comforter for her to amble in.

Oliver tucked the blanket up around her chin, squeezing her shoulder before leaving her side to change into sleep clothes, himself. He shucked his jeans and t-shirt quickly, stepping into a pair of green, flannel pajama pants.

He made his way back to the bed, slipping in beside Felicity.

"Thank you." she murmured, reaching across the bed to pull herself closer.

"For what?" Oliver asked, lifting his arm so she could settle against his side. It was his turn to inhale sharply when she draped an arm across his stomach, snuggling into his warmth.

"Everything." Came her hushed reply, though Oliver was sure she was already mostly asleep.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling when her arm tightened around him. "Always." he whispered, staring into the dark ceiling, and trying not to wonder why her sleeping in his arms suddenly felt like a lifeline.


	4. Yin & Yang

**Author's note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for all of your support. It really means a lot to me that you keep reading, reviewing, and reblogging! We have one more chapter of cuteness, and then the drama/angst begins! This chapter is also a bit longer than normal, as my apology for posting later than promised!**

Felicity hovered in the space between sleep and waking. The place where she didn't have to face her fears or think about what was waiting for her beyond these four walls.

She felt the familiar warmth of Oliver wrapped around her, could feel his deep, even breathing against her back. Her eyes opened slowly, sweeping over her surroundings. She had developed the habit over the many years she spent with Oliver. Her safety had been his number one priority for so long, he had made sure to ingrain her with habits that kept her on alert at all times.

Seeing nothing but what she expected to, Felicity let her eyes flutter closed. She took a deep breath, inhaling the woodsy scent of Oliver, clinging to the sheets below her. She felt the weight of his arm, heavy around her waist. One of his legs was bent, and threaded between hers. Smiling to herself, she lifted her arms above her head, arching her back as she stretched her long limbs.

Oliver stirred behind her, his arm tightening and pressing her further into his embrace. Her smile widened. She always felt at her most peaceful when she was in the encirclement of his arms. Nowhere else in the world afforded her that kind of contentment.

"Hey." he whispered, his voice groggy against her neck.

"Hey." she replied, her fingers trailing over his forearm.

"How'd you sleep?" he mumbled against her skin.

Felicity shifted onto her back, so she could see his face. His eyes were still closed, his thick lashes brushing his cheeks.

"Like a rock." she grinned, "You?"

His eyes opened sleepily, revealing their steely, blue depths.

"Fitfully." he admitted, his brow furrowing.

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling away from her and slipping out of bed. Felicity slid up, pressing her back into the pillows.

"Wanna talk about it?" she ventured, taking in the tight set of his shoulders.

He shook his head, but offered her a grateful smile. He bent, dragging open drawers in his bureau, pulling out clothes and setting them on top.

"You have enough on your plate. Let me deal with this one."

She returned his smile when he met her eyes in the mirror.

"I'm going to shower." he informed her, "You can use Thea's bathroom, and try to find something to wear."

She nodded, standing from the bed and padding past him into the hall. She made her way to the end of the hallway, where Thea's room stood alone. Letting herself in, she crossed to the en suite bath, stripping Oliver's t-shirt off as she went. She leaned into the open shower, turning the water on full force, then backed out to strip off her panties, letting them fall on top of the discarded t-shirt and camisole.

Felicity stepped under the spray, reveling in the hot water as it sluiced over her. She simply stood, enjoying the water, for long moments. Showers seemed to wash away more than the days grime, to Felicity. She'd always felt that they could wash away pain, anxiety, and all the stresses of the day.

She went through the motions, washing her hair then conditioning it. She thought of how tense Oliver seemed, the moment he'd opened his eyes this morning. She hated when he bottled everything up, carrying the weight of their world on his shoulders, not letting anyone bear the load with him. The man needed a break, a chance to breathe.

As she rubbed body wash into her skin, something suddenly rose to the surface of her thoughts. Her eyes flew open, her hand faltering where it lay, over her belly.

She rinsed off quickly, a plan already forming in her mind. She stepped from the shower, wrapping her hair in a towel, and her body in another. Jogging across the room, she searched through Thea's bureau, finding clothes, and dressing as fast as her hands would allow. She stepped back into the bathroom, to blow dry her hair, giving up about halfway through and winding it back into a french braid, instead.

She practically ran down the hallway, rushing into Oliver's bedroom. She glanced around, and seeing that he wasn't there, scooped up her belongings, then headed for the first floor. She rushed down the stairs to find Oliver in the media room, watching the morning news, in jeans and a gray t-shirt.

"Hey," she called, getting his attention, as she pushed her feet into her boots, "I need a ride."

His eyebrows rose in surprise, "Okay... You don't want to stay for breakfast?" he asked, checking his watch.

She shook her head, dragging her hoodie over it, "I have something I need to do." she evaded, before shrugging into her coat.

Oliver eyed her, suspiciously as he rose from the couch to meet her in the foyer.

"Something I can help with?" he offered, moving past her to grab a jacket from the rack by the door.

"No!" she answered, too quickly, making his eyes narrow, "I just... It's personal."

"Since when do we keep secrets from each other?" he asked, an edge of hurt in his words.

"It's not a secret, Oliver." she promised, closing the distance between them to take one of his hands in hers, "At least, it won't be for long. I just need until this afternoon."

He didn't look appeased, and she felt guilty for being so evasive with him. He was normally the first person she wanted to be honest with.

"Trust me?" she plead, her eyes shining with honesty.

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers. Finally, he seemed to relent, "Fine. But, only until this afternoon."

She grinned, nodding her agreement.

"Alright," Oliver sighed, rolling his eyes, "where to?"

"Verdant. I need my car."

* * *

Oliver's jaw clenched as he looked at the text message, for the hundredth time.

**I need you. Foundry. Now.**

Felicity had acted strange from the minute she came down the stairs that morning. She was practically vibrating, her body was so full of nervous energy. But, she had asked him to trust her, and he did.

Implicitly.

He had no idea what had happened between her leaving his bedroom and her barreling down the steps, asking for a ride, but she promised to fill him in this afternoon, so he'd tried to put it out of his mind.

Unsuccessfully, but he had tried.

Entering the code for the security lock, he waited to hear the mechanical click before jerking open the door of the lair. As he made his way down the stairs, he was surprised to find Felicity nowhere in sight. His eyes automatically sought her spot on the mats, finding it empty. He knew that Felicity wouldn't have left without informing him, since she was supposed to be there, waiting for him. His gaze scanned the area, searching for anything out of place.

His body went rigid, his muscles locking, when he caught sight of a small leather box. It sat, alone, in the middle of the mat.

Oliver assessed the risk in his head. Unknown boxes were almost never a good thing, in his line of work. Felicity was supposed to be here. She wanted him to meet her here, had asked him to come.

So, where was she? And, where had the box come from? What if this was all a set up?

Distracted by his calculations, he heard the running footsteps a mere second before he felt the impact. His instincts kicked in, his body turning toward the sound, and rocking back from the force as something solid connected with his side. He went down, hard, landing flat on his back, the breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh, whoever had tackled him landing solidly over him. He felt a set of strong thighs grip around his waist, just as he bucked his hips to flip himself over, pinning his attacker beneath him, with one arm pressed across their chest.

"Felicity?" he gasped, his eyes taking in the blonde under him.

"Happy Arrow-versary!" she smiled blindingly up at him, triumph glittering in her eyes.

His eyebrows drew together, confusion fogging his brain. He realized he still had his arm pressing into her chest, and quickly lifted it, instead resting it beside her head. He made no move to remove himself from between her legs, which were wrapped tightly around his hips.

"What?" he asked, his brain having trouble processing her words.

Her smile widened, as she lifted her arm above her, dragging the leather box towards them. She worked the gold closure on the front, lifting the lid to show him its contents, her eyes sweeping up to his face.

Nestled inside, among hunter green velvet, was a golden arrowhead, about an inch long and three-quarter inches wide, threaded on a thin gold chain.

"Seven years ago, today, I found you, shot and bleeding, in the backseat of my car." she told him, "You trusted me with your secret, with your life, and I've never looked back. We've been through things that most people couldn't even imagine, but, somehow, we always come out stronger on the other side. And, I know that there's nothing we can't get through, as long as we fight together."

Oliver's throat constricted, a knot of emotion lodging itself firmly behind his heart. He sat back on his heels pulling her up with him. He closed his eyes for a beat, attempting to reign in his emotions, which were slowly slipping out of his control.

Felicity felt the stirrings of doubt low in her gut.

"Say something." she insisted, lifting her thumb to her lips, chewing on her neon blue nail in a nervous gesture.

Oliver cleared his throat, moving past her to lift her gift. He fingered the arrowhead, caressing the textured surface. Slipping a finger beneath it, he was surprised to feel an engraving under his touch, on the back of the pendant. Turning it over, he read the inscription:

_**My Hero **_

_**2/13/13**_

Oliver felt the prickling sensation behind his eyes, as he lifted them to her worried gaze.

"Felicity." he whispered, unable to say anything else.

"Do you like it?" she smiled shyly, still biting her nail.

He could only stare at her, unable to put into words what he was thinking.

Her smile turned elated, and she launched herself against him, her arms thrown around his neck.

"When I was in the shower I remembered today's date. I had to go pick it up from the jewelers, before they closed, which is why I was in such a hurry. I know you were worried but, I didn't want to spoil the surprise!" she gushed.

Oliver pulled back so he could meet her eyes, "I love it, Felicity." he finally spoke, his palm resting on her hip, "Thank you."

"I know we don't usually do gifts for Arrow-versaries, but seven years is _such_ a long time, and I wanted to do something special this year."

"It's perfect." he promised, lifting the chain from the box, realizing for the first time how long it was.

"I got the chain extra-long, so you can wear it under your shirt. Having an arrowhead around your neck might give some people the wrong idea. Well, the right idea, but, of course, we don't want them to know that." she babbled, as if reading his mind, and clapping her hands in front of her, excitedly.

He lifted the chain, slipping it over his head. He was pleased to find that it hung level with his heart.

"It's perfect." he said, again, tucking the arrowhead under his t-shirt.

He stood from the mat, offering her his hand, to help her to her feet.

"That was a well executed attack, by the way." he told her, pride clear in his voice.

"I had good teachers." she grinned, slipping her hand into his.

* * *

Oliver sat behind the desk in his study, leaning back in the chair, his arrowhead pendant between his fingers. He'd found himself touching it, every chance that he got, over the last few days. It was becoming something of a worry stone for him, drawing comfort from it when he was feeling scattered.

"You'd better watch yourself with that thing." Diggle spoke from the seat opposite his, "A clever someone might put two and two together."

"We're in my study, Digg. Who's going to see?" Oliver argued, though he tucked the pendant back under his blue button-up.

"Your mother." Diggle reminded him.

"She's at the office."

"I'm just saying. I know it means a lot to you, but you gotta remember to keep it close to the chest."

"Was that a pun?" Oliver asked, raising his eyebrow in question.

Digg chuckled, shaking his head, "Not an intentional one. Though, I'm glad to see you've maintained your sense of humor. I thought, by now, you'd be pacing a groove into the Foundry floor."

Oliver sighed, reaching for the folder laying open on his desk. Felicity had compiled all the information she could find on Officer Reynolds and Commissioner Wilhelm, hoping to find a link to The Count. He had been through it twice since she'd given it to him that morning, still unable to find even a hint of where The Count was hiding out.

"I'm beyond frustrated." he ground, between clenched teeth, throwing the file closed, and back onto his desk, "Everywhere we turn is a dead end. We need to find this guy, Diggle."

"How's she holding up?" Digg inquired.

Oliver scrubbed a hand over his face, meeting his friend's eyes, "She's... Felicity. She acts like she's fine, pretends that she's not scared, but I know her. She's terrified. She hasn't slept alone since she found out."

"How often was she really sleeping alone before she found out, Oliver?" Digg asked, no malice in his question.

Oliver shot him a look that said "Don't start".

Diggle raised his hands in defense, "Look, man, I'm not trying to beat a dead horse, here. I'm just saying. You two are practically married. You realize that, right? Minus the sex part, of course, but no marriage is perfect."

"Diggle." Oliver warned.

"You say that you can't be with her because it isn't safe. You can't have a real relationship with her because your enemies could use her against you. Right?"

Oliver was silent for a long moment, unsure he wanted to have this conversation. Reluctantly, he gave a sharp nod.

"Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, Oliver, but you already are. You two have a _very_ public relationship, as much as you like to deny it. Do you think that your enemies care whether or not you're actually sleeping with her? They know you care about her, either way." Diggle informed him.

"It's more than that." Oliver argued, leaving his chair to pace behind his desk.

"You're in love with her." Digg stated, no question in his tone, "What more could there be?"

He unconsciously dragged the arrowhead from beneath his shirt, manipulating it between his fingers.

"I can't hurt her. She's... I'd never forgive myself if I hurt her." Oliver admitted.

"You've been 'together' for five years, Oliver. If you were going to hurt her, don't you think you'd have done it by now? I haven't seen you so much as _look_ at another woman since you told her you loved her. The only woman you've been seen with, in the last five years, is Felicity. I'd say you're committed." Digg pointed out.

Oliver stopped pacing, meeting Diggle's eyes.

"Don't let your past dictate your future, Oliver. You can't ask her to wait forever." came the feminine voice from the open doorway.

His hold on the arrowhead tightened instantly, the edges biting into his palm.

"Mom, I thought you were at the office. How long have you been standing there?" Oliver asked, trying to maintain his even breathing.

"Long enough." she smiled, crossing the room to take his hand, the one not holding the arrowhead, in both of hers, "Oliver, listen to me. The boy that you were... he is not the man that stands in front of me today. This man, would never dream of doing the things that boy used to do."

"It's not that simple, mother." Oliver began to argue.

"I asked you to listen." Moira interrupted, loosening his hand from around the arrowhead, and holding it in her open palm, "_This_ man, would do everything in his power to protect the people he loves. Up to, and including, laying down his life."

Oliver stared at her, his eyes conveying his shock, "You know?" he asked, his voice tight.

Moira smirked, an expression Diggle found he knew well.

"Oliver Jonas Queen, I am your mother. I know much more than you give me credit for." She let the arrowhead drop and set her palm over his thudding heart, "Which is how I know that Felicity Smoak is the best thing that ever could have happened to you. She brings out a side of you that no one else does. She is an extraordinary young woman. But, even extraordinary women have their limits. Don't try to find hers."

Moira lifted onto her toes, to press a kiss to his cheek. Turning to walk away, she nodded to Digg.

"Mr. Diggle." she smiled.

"Mrs. Queen." he acknowledged, with a dip of his head.

Oliver's eyes followed her as she left the room. He stared at the open doorway, his mind reeling. He turned his attention back to Digg, to find him stiffing a bout of laughter.

"Something to say, Diggle?" Oliver challenged.

"Nothing..." he smirked, "Jonas."

* * *

Felicity sat at the kitchen table, in her apartment, her laptop open on its surface. Her earbuds were securely tucked in her ears, effectively blocking out the rest of the world. She often found she could focus better with music to drown out the world around her. Of course, she couldn't afford herself that luxury at the Foundry, because she needed to be alert and ready for action. But, here in her home, she enjoyed sinking herself into her research, while tapping her foot to the beat of a catchy dance tune swimming in her brain.

Her nimble fingers danced over the keys, as she sifted through the information she had managed to find. She'd been over it a million times, already, but she couldn't bring herself to stop trying. They needed a lead, and soon.

The Count's reappearance in her life had been taking its toll. She tried to cover it, especially with Oliver and John around, because she didn't want them to worry. She hated seeing the worry lines etch themselves onto their faces when they thought she wasn't looking. Not to mention, if Oliver was distracted, even a little, he left himself open to make mistakes. He couldn't make a mistake when he was out, Arrowing it up. It could end up costing him his life.

Felicity shoved herself back from the table, trying to shake off that thought. Even just the idea of losing Oliver sent a flood of icy, paralyzing fear crashing through her. Worse, was the idea of losing him because he was distracted by worrying about her safety. She'd never be able to live with herself.

Leaving the kitchen, Felicity found herself with the urge to clean. It was a defense mechanism, she knew. Whenever she felt herself losing control of her emotions, the anxiety threatening to overwhelm her, she had the strong desire to clean. Like, really get into it, scrub every surface until her fingers ached, kind of clean. It always started small, with sweeping and dusting. Then she'd mop, and start wiping things down. Before she knew it, she'd be dragging the stove away from the wall to scrub the back with a Brillo pad.

Two and a half hours later, she was in the bathroom, taking her anxiety out on her shower. She was standing in the the tub, in her leggings and an old MIT t-shirt, attacking the grout between the cream colored tiles with a scrub-brush. She'd left the shower for last, knowing she could count on the monotonous routine to suck out the rest of her pent up energy.

She was putting all she had into her scrubbing, intent on making the grout sparkle. A heavy rock song was pounding in her ears, thrumming through her body with every chord. She was singing along, dancing a little in place with the beat.

Suddenly, the back of her neck started to tingle.

She had the feeling of eyes on her, as her body moved with the music. She carefully slipped her earbuds out, tucking them into the collar of her t-shirt, without being obvious with her movements. Taking a deep breath, she spun on her heel, slamming her back against the wall, to catch herself, as her feet slipped out from underneath her. Her hand flew to her heart, in an attempt to slow its racing.

"Christ, Oliver! You scared the hell out of me!" she huffed, glaring at him, leaning easily against the doorjamb in jeans, a tan sweater, and his brown leather.

"Sorry, you were otherwise occupied. I didn't want to interrupt." he smirked, his eyes raking down her body, taking in her skintight black leggings, and the pink t-shirt that clung snugly against her skin.

The way his eyes drank her in made Felicity's skin tingle, in a much different way than it had just a moment before. A surge of heat flooded between her thighs, causing her to shift under his stare.

"So, instead, you decided to try and scare me to death?" she shot at him, stepping out of the shower and poking him in the chest.

Oliver chuckled.

"I was enjoying the show." he teased, arching a brow roguishly.

Felicity rolled her eyes, trying to stifle the burst of lust his words evoked.

"I've been cleaning for," she paused to check the time on her iPod, "three hours. I probably look like something the cat dragged in."

"You look beautiful." he smiled, letting a hand trail over her shoulder and down to her elbow.

She snorted her disagreement, shoving him out of bathroom and into her bedroom. She moved across the room, to shuffle through her dresser. Having found a pair of jeans and a pink cami, she turned back to Oliver, who was still watching her.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower." She jerked her head toward the living room, "How about lunch?"

"Pizza?" he suggested, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Sounds good." She nodded, heading for the bathroom and pushing the door shut.

Twenty minutes later, Felicity walked into the living room, freshly showered, and blow-dried.

"Better?" Oliver grinned from the sofa, watching her shrug into a purple cardigan.

"Much." She laughed, dragging her hair from under the sweater, and letting it fall loosely around her shoulders.

She made her way into the kitchen for a bottle of water, before going back to join him on the couch. She sank down beside him, tipping her water to her lips.

"My mother knows about me." Oliver informed her.

Felicity sputtered and choked on her water, coughing as the cold hit her lungs. She wiped droplets away with the back of her hand, turning her head to meet his eyes.

"Seriously?!" she coughed. "How do you know?"

Oliver explained, while being vague about the nature of their conversation.

"I wonder how long she's known..." Felicity mumbled, more to herself than to him.

"No idea. But, I'm relatively sure our secret is safe with her." he reassured her.

"How much does she know?" Felicity continued, following the thread of thoughts, "Does she know about Digg? Or, Thea and Roy? Does she know about the Arrow Cave? Does she know about me?"

"She knows about you and Digg. I'm not sure about Thea and Roy, though I'm sure if she doesn't, she'll figure it out eventually." Oliver reasoned.

"And, the Foundry?"

"I doubt she's aware it even exists." he told her, though he'd have to give it more thought.

Felicity turned her body toward him, tucking her feet beneath her on the cushion. She let her eyes linger on his face, attempting to decipher how he felt about his mother knowing as much as she did. He didn't seem to be worried, she thought. If anything, she saw a bit of relief in his eyes.

"You're glad, in a way, aren't you? To not have to lie to her, anymore. For her to see, and be proud of, the man you've become." It wasn't so much a question, as an observation.

"How do you do that?" he asked, tilting his head as he met her eyes.

"Do what?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

"See right through me." The corner of his mouth twitched, his tone soft.

Felicity felt the blush grace her cheeks as she looked down at her fingers, realizing for the first time that they were entwined with his, laying in the small space between them.

"I know you, Oliver." she told him, lifting her gaze back to his, "Better than anyone, really. I understand you, even when you have trouble understanding yourself."

"You always see the best in me. Sometimes..." he hesitated but pushed ahead, "Sometimes, I worry that it blinds you to the rest of what's in here."

Felicity moved closer to him, so that her knee was resting on his thigh. She lifted their linked hands, pressing them against her chest. She locked her eyes with his so that he could see the honesty in them.

"I see the rest of it." she promised, "I see the darkness that you struggle with, everyday. I see the pain, the loss, that you try to hide from the people around you. I see the self-loathing that you see when you look at yourself."

Oliver lowered his head, her words stinging with their truth.

"Hey." she prodded, squeezing his hand.

His eyes found hers, once more, apprehensive of what she'd say next.

"I also see the strength that it takes to fight this fight everyday. I see the sacrifices you make to keep all of us safe, to keep us alive. Mostly, I just see you." she gave him a gentle smile, "I see the hero that I always knew you'd become. I see a loving brother, and son. A man of his word, a loyal friend... My best friend."

She let their hands fall to her lap, her thumb massaging over the scared ridges of his knuckles. Oliver stared down at them. Her hands, dainty and unmarked, caressing his, large and marred with souvenirs of battles past. The contrast struck him as the running theme of their lives. She was beautifully light, full of warmth, and possessing a kind heart. He was dangerously dark, cold in places, with a damaged soul.

"What do you think of the Yin-Yang philosophy?" Oliver asked suddenly.

Felicity was quiet, considering her words carefully before she spoke.

"If you're asking if I believe in its merit, my answer is yes. Most things can't exist, without their counterpart. Sadness can't exist without happiness, hate without love, pain without pleasure..."

"Darkness without light." Oliver added, his eyes conveying his meaning as they stared into hers.

"The natural world demands balance." she smiled softly.

As he looked at her, his mother's words came back to him:

"_Even extraordinary women have their limits. Don't try to find hers."_

Oliver lifted his free hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her smooth skin. Her eyes blinked up at him, open and honest. In that moment, he could see her love staring back at him. His gaze fell to her lips, watching in fascination as they parted, her breath coming out in a soft gasp between them.

Fire raced up her spine, as his eyes darkened. Her heart was thumping painfully in her chest, as if trying to reach for him, ribs be damned. He rarely ever looked at her that way, with desire so plainly visible in his eyes. Anytime he had let his wanting show, he was quick to cover it.

Not now.

Now, his desire was on display. The way he was staring at her, felt like he was looking straight _into_ her. He was seeing the deepest parts of her and relishing in them. His eyes were hungry, drawing her in and refusing to let go.

"Felicity." he murmured, leaning into her, his gaze foretelling his destination.

She was trapped, caught in the spell he always managed to weave around her. She had no choice, her body responding of its own accord. Her hand slipped between them, sliding up the hard planes of his chest. Her heart stuttered beneath her breast, and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his muscles ripple and bunch beneath her touch. She fisted her hands in the heavy knit of his sweater, dragging herself up, and forcing him back with her hips. She adjusted her position so that she was pressed against him, her knees on either side of his thighs. She gazed down at him, her eyes hooded with passion.

Oliver tipped his head back, as he pushed a hand into the hair at the base of her neck. He pulled her face to his, so close he could taste her breath, swirling with his own. He inhaled deeply, drinking her in like she was his dying breath. He nuzzled her nose with his, letting his lips barely whisper over hers, teasingly.

A loud knock on the door made Felicity jump. Oliver's eyes slid closed in exasperation, his forehead coming to rest, briefly, against hers. Sighing, he shifted them both, so that she was back on her cushion, and rose to peer through the peephole. Cursing under his breath, he flipped the lock, dragging the door open to reveal their lunch's arrival.

Felicity focused on regulating her erratic heartbeat, while Oliver signed the credit card slip. Before he could turn from re-locking the door, she was on her feet, hurrying to the kitchen. She busied herself, pulling out plates and napkins, setting the table, anything to avoid meeting his eyes.

She didn't want to see the regret in them. She didn't want to feel the distance he would inevitably put between them, as he always did when he came close to crossing the line he had drawn in the sand. And, _that_ had been close.

"Hey." Oliver called, cutting through her racing thoughts.

She glanced up, reluctantly, to see none of the things she'd thought would be there. He looked exactly as he normally did. His body was tight but, then again, so was hers.

"You okay?" he asked, a hand coming to rest at the base of her spine.

Felicity smiled, the tension leaving her muscles, "I'm fine. I was just thinking how grateful I am that you can still surprise me after all the years we've been together. Well, not _together, _together, obviously, but in the 'we spend all of our time together' kind of way, Because, seriously, I see you more than I see my mother, and she gave birth to me."

Oliver chuckled, sliding into the chair at the end of her little table, "Well, I'm grateful that you still babble around me, after all the years we've been together."

"It's a talent." she grinned, folding herself into her chair and swiping a slice of pepperoni pizza from the box.


	5. Lessons In Jealousy

**Author's note: Hey guys! First, I wanted to say a quick thanks to everyone who has reviewed, shared, reblogged, favorited, and followed this story. I can't even begin to tell you all how much I appreciate your kindness. Second, I wanted to let you all know that this will probably be the last update, until after New Years. I know, it sucks! But, I've got family stuff coming up and I won't have enough time to actually sit down and edit the next chapter. I PROMISE I will see you all no later than January 1st! Happy Holidays! **

"Where's Felicity?" Diggle asked, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel.

Oliver followed suit, crossing the training mat, then draping his towel around his neck, grasping it by the ends.

"She's having dinner with her friend, Taylor, from IT."

"You let her go?" Digg's brows lifted in surprise, his hands stalling their efforts to drag a black A-shirt over his large chest.

"You and I both know that no one _lets_ her do anything. Besides," Oliver reasoned, "she's had a rough week. She deserves a night out for dinner with a friend."

"We know anything about Taylor?" Digg asked, before taking a long draw from his water bottle.

Oliver shook his head, "Not really. All I know is that since Felicity moved upstairs, the department has had a slew of replacements. Taylor was hired a few months ago, and since Felicity can't resist the urge to visit IT every chance she gets, they've become friends." he explained, with a fond smile.

"You ever met him?"

Oliver's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "What makes you think Taylor's a he?" he asked, his tone carefully even.

Diggle wasn't fooled. He smirked, shaking his head at an oblivious Oliver.

"So, then she's a she?" he questioned, trying to maintain a straight face.

Oliver didn't answer, right away. His brain was scanning through his memories of conversations with Felicity, trying to recall if she'd ever put a gender to the name.

"I honestly have no idea." he finally answered, his brow furrowing further.

* * *

"And, then, I had to talk him through deleting the software from his laptop before his wife found it." Felicity finished, laughing.

Taylor laughed, shaking his head in amusement, his raven colored strands flopping over his forehead with the movement.

"I wonder if she ever found out." he mused, leaning back in his chair.

"My guess is, yes. I can't imagine it was the last time he 'accidentally' downloaded porn software." Felicity giggled, the two glasses of wine with dinner making her feel lighter than she had in days.

Taylor chuckled, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners, illuminated by the soft lighting of the restaurant.

"So, besides being EA to our CEO extraordinaire, what have you been up to?" he inquired, as he lifted his wine glass to his lips.

Felicity shrugged, duplicating his movement, "Not much, really. My job takes up a lot of my time." she explained.

_Both of them_, she added, to herself.

"We should all be so blessed." Taylor teased, "Ritzy balls and charity functions should be in all of our job descriptions."

"You say that now, but all those sky high heels do a number on your feet." she laughed.

"I'll remember that, the next time I decide to rock a pair of stilettos." he grinned, arching an eyebrow suggestively.

"I'm sure you could pull them off just fine." she assured him, struggling to maintain a straight face.

"What about your non-working hours?" Taylor asked, through his laughter "Oliver keep you busy then, too?"

Felicity wrinkled her nose, trying not to laugh at the way Taylor wiggled his eyebrows at her.

He put his palms up in a placating gesture, "I know, I know. 'It's not like that'." he quoted back to her, "I don't get it, but I can respect it."

Felicity rolled her eyes, deciding to be honest with her friend, "There was a moment, where it felt like maybe things were shifting, but it was interrupted." she explained.

"Apocalypse?" he teased, "Because nothing short of an cataclysmic event should stop a moment like that."

"Pizza delivery." she laughed, wrinkling her nose, again.

"You two need to stop dancing around each other, and just take a leap." Taylor said firmly.

"It's complicated... He's complicated." Felicity tried to reason, picking at an imaginary thread on the hem of her red dress, where it laid across her thighs.

"He's in love with you, and you with him." Taylor declared, "What else is there?"

Felicity considered his argument, knowing how hard their situation was to understand, from the outside.

"It's not a lack of feelings, by any means." she attempted to explain, "It's just... He doesn't have the best history, especially with women, and he doesn't want me to be just another casualty in that succession."

"How long have you two been doing this dance?" Taylor inquired.

"Well, we've been friends for a little over seven years, but this particular 'dance', as you call it, has been for the past five."

"And, you're the only woman he's ever seen with. Outside of his family, obviously. It kind of seems to me like he has the 'playboy' thing under control." Taylor reasoned.

"It's not just that. We both have things we have to come to terms with before we can cross that line." Felicity told him, draining the last of her wine.

Taylor smiled, sympathetically, "I just want to to see you happy. And, I think, Oliver does that for you."

"He does. We'll get there, eventually. I don't see either of us letting go of the other. Ever." Felicity laughed, nodding as the waiter approached the table to top off their glasses.

"Maybe we could double date sometime." Taylor suggested, "Kerri loves you, and I'd like a chance to see Oliver outside of QC."

"I'll talk to him." she smiled, "Speaking of Kerri, how is she?"

"She's amazing." Taylor grinned, "She's in Central City, on business, at the moment."

"I feel like I never see her." Felicity pouted.

"You and me both." he agreed, sipping his wine.

Felicity's phone buzzed from her purse, drawing her attention. She bent to scoop it up, swiping her thumb across the screen to find a text from Oliver.

**The roads are icing over. Text me when you're done with dinner, and I'll come get you.**

Felicity smiled at his over-protectiveness.

"Apparently the roads are getting slick. Be careful getting home." she told Taylor, as she responded to the text, letting Oliver know that she was almost done, and which restaurant she was at.

"Do you want to share a cab?" he offered, signaling the waiter to bring their check.

"Oliver's picking me up." she smiled, before draining her glass.

The waiter approached their table, again, and set the check between them. They reached for it simultaneously, but Felicity swatted his hand away.

"I've got it." she told him, not willing to negotiate on it.

"No argument here." Taylor laughed, pulling his hand back.

Ten minutes later, Taylor helped her shrug into her coat, as they made their way outside. She tucked her arms around herself, bracing her body against the cold, while Taylor hailed a cab.

"I'll talk to Kerri about the double date thing when I talk to her. Make sure to run it by Oliver." he reminded her.

She nodded, giving him a quick hug as his cab pulled up. Taylor bent to press a quick kiss against her cheek, and then ducked into his ride.

As the cab pulled away, Diggle pulled up to the curb in the Bentley. Oliver emerged, holding a hand out to help her into the backseat. She scooted across the leather, her stockinged legs sliding easily. Oliver dropped in beside her, shutting the cold air out behind him. Diggle pulled away from the curb, shooting her a glance in the rear view mirror.

She tilted her head, in question, but his eyes were already back on the road.

Oliver shifted beside her, so she turned to look up at him. She took in his profile, aware that there was a muscle jumping in his jaw. Her brows furrowed further, confused by the atmosphere in the car.

"How was dinner?" Oliver asked, the strain in his voice almost undetectable.

Unless, you were Felicity Smoak.

"Dinner was fun. We had a good time." she responded, "What about you guys? Anything going on tonight?"

She heard John sigh in the front seat, and saw the slight shake of his head.

"No, it's quiet." Oliver said, still not looking at her, "We decided to close up shop early, and call it a night."

"Okay..." Felicity said slowly, "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

She saw Diggle smirk in the mirror, before training her eyes on Oliver's profile.

"Oliver?" she pressed.

"We'll talk about it at the apartment." he told her, tightly.

Felicity's anger bloomed to life in her chest, at his dismissal. Not wanting to argue with him in the backseat of a car, she fell silent, losing herself in the snarl of thoughts swirling around her brain. She could do stoic just as well as he could, after all.

Diggle pulled up to her apartment, and Oliver walked around the car to find her already climbing from the backseat. She ignored his proffered hand, saying goodnight to John, and striding up the porch steps.

"Oliver." Digg called, causing him to duck his head back into the car, "Should I wait?"

Oliver scowled at him.

"Go home to your wife, Diggle." he ordered, slamming the door behind him.

Even with the door closed, he could hear Diggle's rumbles of laughter as the car pulled away.

Oliver headed up the steps, and into the lobby. He found an impatient Felicity tapping her foot in irritation, as she waited for the elevator. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he fell in place beside her, and stared at their reflection in the doors. Neither of them uttered a word while they waited.

Finally, the doors dinged open, and without waiting for him to guide her in, as he usually did, Felicity stepped into the elevator, pressing her back firmly against the far wall, arms crossed in front of her. With a sigh, he joined her inside, standing in the middle of the empty car. He jabbed the button for her floor, and they rode the short distance in silence.

The doors slid open, revealing the long hallway of her floor. Felicity passed him without a word, and strode to her door, at the end of the hall. Slipping her key into the lock she let herself in, before entering the security code to disarm the alarm, leaving the door open for him but without looking back.

Oliver shook his head, a mix of irritation and amusement waring in his head. Closing the door behind him, he threw the lock and re-armed the alarm. He shrugged out of his black pea coat, hanging it in the coat closet, and then sank onto the sofa.

He wasn't going to chase her down to talk to her. He knew better than that, by now. He'd let her shower, and change into pajamas, giving her the time, he knew she needed, to cool off.

As he sat, he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He knew it started when Diggle pointed out that Taylor was a unisex name, and he had no idea which was the case in this instance. He had no right to jealousy, either way really, but the idea of Felicity, out on a date with another man made his blood boil.

It wasn't as though they had made any serious commitment to one another. Their arrangement was an unspoken one, but it was valid. Neither of them dated, because neither of them wanted to. They only had eyes for each other, and that was the way it had been for five years. The idea that Felicity might have changed her mind, scared the hell out of him.

Oliver had texted her, telling her that he'd pick her up. He tried to convince himself that he did it because the roads were icy, and he didn't want to leave her safety to a cab driver, and not because he'd been desperate to find out if Taylor was a man's name or a woman's name.

And, then, he'd seen them, hugging on the sidewalk. And, Taylor was definitely a man's name. And, said man was kissing Felicity's cheek. And...

Oliver had experienced the strongest surge of jealousy he'd ever felt. It was that irrational, deep down, primordial kind of jealousy, and every muscle in his body had tensed for a fight.

He'd gotten really good at hiding his emotions behind masks, and fake smiles, in his time since the island. However, he'd never managed to hide anything from Felicity. She could read him like one of her codes. So, he knew that she had picked up on his agitation. She may not know exactly why he was acting the way he was, but she'd have an educated guess, and she would not be afraid to call him on his bullshit.

It was one of the things he loved most about her, really. She wasn't afraid to call him out, to take him down a peg or two when he needed it. And, she _definitely_ was not afraid to use her loud voice with him, which was irrationally attractive to him. She was the only person in his life that challenged him, like that, forcing him to reevaluate his stance on things, reevaluate his methods.

Oliver heard the water shut off in her bathroom, and the sound of her shuffling around her bedroom. He left the couch to start a pot of coffee in the kitchen, mostly so his hands had something to do. Just as he was pouring the coffee into mugs, he heard her enter the kitchen, behind him.

He turned to offer her the cup, glad to see that she seemed calmer than she had when they'd gotten home.

She wrapped both hands around the large mug, soaking in its heat. Slipping into a chair, she tucked her feet beneath her and met his eyes for the first time all night.

"Well?" she prodded, her tone resigned.

"Well, what?" he deflected, sitting in the chair at the end of the table.

She rolled her eyes. "Oliver."

When he still didn't speak, she reached out with her left hand, laying it on his forearm.

"What happened tonight?" she pressed, not letting him skirt the issue.

He cleared his throat, having the good graces to look contrite, "I didn't know that Taylor was a man's name." he confessed.

Felicity was quiet for a moment, staring at him in confusion, and then disbelief. She let out a peal of laughter, shaking her head before letting it fall against the table.

"You were jealous." she surmised, talking into the wood.

"I wasn't jealous." he denied, with no real conviction, tracing patterns into his mug with his thumb.

Felicity's head popped back, her eyes meeting his, daring him to lie to her. "Really?" she sighed, a single eyebrow arched in challenge.

Oliver growled, low in his chest, frustration written across his face.

"Okay! Yes, I was jealous." he bit out, "I hadn't even considered that Taylor might be a man's name, and then Diggle asked if I'd met _him_ and I..."

"And?" Felicity prompted, amusement clear in the single word.

"And, when we pulled up, he had his arms around you." Oliver said as though the very idea were outrageous to him.

She grinned, her hand squeezing his arm, "And?"

"And, then he kissed you." he growled, the Arrow voice slipping through.

"Kissed my _cheek_." she reminded him, pulling her hand back to run it through her curls.

"I don't see how that distinction is relevant." Oliver informed her, his gaze intent on his coffee mug.

Felicity laughed again, before standing and moving behind him. She leaned over him, wrapping both arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his. He relaxed, infinitesimally, into her embrace.

"Taylor is a _friend, _Oliver. He's a nice guy, who happens to share my love of IT. Coincidentally, so does his _girlfriend_." she told him, softly.

"He has a girlfriend?" Oliver asked, relaxing a bit more.

"Yes, her name's Kerri. She's a very nice woman who works for Pointe-Tech."

"If he didn't have a girlfriend?" he inquired, needing to hear her denial.

"He would still be a _friend_. He'd just be a single friend." she grinned, letting her palm slide over his chest.

"You don't like him?" Oliver pressed, feeling himself relax further into her.

"I like him very much." she whispered, locking her arms when he tried to pull away from her, "But, I happen to be in love with someone else."

Oliver froze against her, the only movement from his body, the pounding of his heart.

She slid around him, so that she was sitting across his lap, her arms still wrapped loosely around his neck. His hands instinctively moved to lock together on her hip, holding her body to his. He leaned back, so he could search her face.

"In love, huh?" he asked, tilting his head in question.

She nodded, "Very much so."

"Lucky guy." he smiled the smile she knew was reserved for her.

"Don't I know it." she smiled sweetly at him.

His eyes fell to her mouth, and he felt as though he was being pulled to them, by a magnet. The air between them crackled, both of them breathing a little heavier than they had been the moment before. His lips were just an inch away from hers, he could almost taste them. All he had to do was move. Close the distance between them and finally taste her, again. Taste the essence that he had committed to memory, that night, so long ago.

Taste the lightning he remembered.

As he slowly bent toward her, he felt her hand slide around his neck, slipping up to caress his jaw. Her fingers whispered over his stubble, leaving burning embers in their wake. His eyes slipped shut, a soft groan rumbling in his chest. Her finger grazed across his bottom lip, before he felt her apply pressure, pushing him gently away. His eyes flew open, shooting to hers, his expression bewildered.

"You're not getting off that easily." she said softly, before she leaned into him, whispering butterfly kisses against his cheek.

She disentangled herself from his lap, and he was too stunned to stop her. He sat staring, at the empty space where she had been, his lap missing her warmth.

He heard her voice from down the hall, drifting to him from her bedroom.

"Coming?" she called, the teasing quality of her voice making him growl.

He left the kitchen, kicked his shoes off by her front door, and then padded his way down the hall. He reached her bedroom to find her already under the blankets, her pajama pants on the floor beside the bed. He closed his eyes, steeling himself to a night of sleeping beside her half dressed, and frustrated beyond belief.

He was suddenly struck by an idea, and had to force himself not to laugh villainously.

Oliver moved to the chair on her side of the bed, dragging his shirt over his head as he went. He could feel her eyes on him, sending sparks of awareness down his spine. He knew she was watching when he shifted sideways, allowing her to see as he popped the button on his jeans. He could practically feel her fingers itching to touch him as he slid his zipper down, and hooked his thumbs into the waist. Shoving them down his legs, he stepped out of his jeans, leaving himself in only boxers, and tossed them carelessly over the back of the chair. He stretched his arms over his head, putting the body he knew she loved on display, before heading around to the other side of the bed, and slipping between the sheets.

"Goodnight, Felicity." he breathed against the back of her neck, wrapping an arm around her ribs and dragging her flush against the length of his warm body.

"Goodnight, Oliver." she whispered back, snuggling into his warmth, and wiggling her hips more than was strictly necessary.

* * *

Oliver woke to the smell of coffee, the aroma surrounding him and drawing him from a fitful sleep. He rolled to his side, extending an arm across the bed in search of her. The spot that Felicity had occupied was empty, the sheets cold beneath his fingers.

He rose, slipping into his jeans, but leaving them open around his waist. Shirtless, he shuffled down the hall, to find Felicity already showered and dressed for work, at the kitchen table.

"Hey." he squeezed her shoulder, dropping a kiss against the crown of her head.

"Hey." she answered, without looking up from the tablet propped open on the table in front of her.

Oliver poured himself a mug of coffee, and then settled into the chair beside her, glancing at what she was working on.

"What's this?" he asked, gesturing at the tablet.

"The current bane of my existence." she muttered, scrolling through the information in front of her.

Oliver watched in silence, knowing she'd share when she found what she was looking for. He leaned back, draping an arm across the back of her chair as he sipped his coffee. His eyes alternated between watching her fingers as she manipulated the screen, and watching her face as she concentrated on what she was doing.

Long ago, he'd found that he was mesmerized by the way her face scrunched up, or how she bit her bottom lip when she was focused on a singular task.

"You're doing it, again." she smirked, flicking through a set of files.

"What am I doing?" he grinned, already knowing her answer. They'd had this same discussion many times over the years.

"Staring at me while I'm working."

"It's a habit." he informed her, his thumb stroking the back of her neck.

"It's distracting." she told him, with a shiver, her eyes finally leaving her tablet and finding his face.

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he watched her eyes drop, taking in the bare expanse of his chest. He felt them trail down his torso, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He heard the sharp intake of breath when they hit the open waist of his jeans. He watched her pupils dilate, and her lips part. His gut tightened, at the open appreciation in her gaze. Heat flooded through him, snaking its way through his veins.

"I-" she cleared her throat, "I have to get to work."

She slid her chair back, flipped the cover over her tablet, and strode away from him. His eyes followed her retreat, his mind trying to figure out why she was pushing him away, for the second time in less than twelve hours.

Not since before that night, at Verdant, when they had admitted their feelings and shared that earth-shattering kiss, had she thrown walls up between them. Their relationship, since then, had been... intimate. They shared heated gazes, touches that lingered longer than was platonically appropriate. They developed a familiarity that generally came with years of physical intimacy.

It was almost as if that kiss, on the bar, had broken down the bars that kept them in separate cages. It had allowed them to come together, to enjoy their attraction to one another, while still respecting the friendship that they had built.

They both knew how the relationship looked, from the outside. Too many people had commented on it for them to ignore the truth to what they were saying. But, they had yet to cross that last physical boundary. They were both, painfully, aware that when they crossed that line, it was for good. There was no going back, no letting go.

So, they'd been careful to keep that last bit of separation between them. But, there hadn't been walls. Oliver was displeased to feel the one she was erecting now.

He stood from the table to follow her into the living room, where he found her shrugging into her purple jacket. He was silent as she buttoned it, and tied the belt around her narrow waist.

"Felicity."

Her head lifted to meet his eyes, hesitantly.

"What's going on?" he asked, moving toward her.

"I don't know what you mean." she dodged, her eyes flickering down to the wooden planks beneath her feet.

He stopped, a foot in front of her, crossing his arms and lifting a brow.

"I have to get to work." she repeated, twisting her fingers around each other, "I have a few things that I have to get done before your first meeting. I should have finished them yesterday, but I got distracted, and then I had dinner plans and I thought I'd have Arrowy stuff to do..."

She was babbling, and she hated herself for it.

He made to step toward her, his stomach dropping when she stepped back half a step.

"Felicity... Talk to me." He hated that he could hear the plea in his words.

"I have to go." she stepped forward, pressing the barest of kisses against his cheek, and then she was hurrying out the door.

Oliver stared at the closed door, chewing his bottom lip. Something wasn't right, and he was determined to figure out what it was. He hated feeling like something had shifted between them, without him realizing it. Things had been going so well, when they went to bed, finally moving in a direction he'd thought they'd both wanted. She'd told him she was in love with him, something she'd been diligent about keeping to herself for the bulk of their relationship. She was careful about never pressuring him to move beyond what they had, because she understood how badly he wanted to protect it. To protect her, even from himself.

He turned, scrubbing a hand over his stubble, and headed for the shower.


	6. When He Comes To Call

**Author's note: Hey guys! I know I said this wouldn't be up until New Years, but I managed to find the time to edit it and get it up sooner. You'll have another update on the 1st :)**  
**Now, I have two things I want you to know: **

**1) This chapter kicks off the angst/violence aspect of this story. The next few chapters will be rough. **

**2) I am so, so sorry!**

* * *

Felicity practically ran out of the QC building, slipping into her car and driving out of the garage before Oliver had finished his last meeting.

She'd done her best to avoid him for most of the day, only addressing him when she absolutely had to. He'd tried, multiple times, to catch her alone in an attempt to find out why she was doing everything within her power to avoid him. She'd dodged all of his efforts, only appearing in his office when he had a meeting. The second those meetings ended, she took off, claiming to have errands to run or that her services were required elsewhere.

In her heart, she knew she was being ridiculous. This was Oliver, for crying out loud. The man knew everything there was to know about her, all the intricacies of her existence. He knew that she was avoiding him, and she felt terrible for it.

She just needed a little more time.

When they'd gone to bed, last night, their interactions had been teasing and flirty. Felicity had taken a chance and finally put into words the way she felt for him, and he hadn't bolted the other way. In fact, he seemed pleased to actually hear the words spoken out loud.

When he'd slipped into bed behind her, pulling her against him, she'd known what he was trying to do. She'd responded, in kind, teasing him just as he did to her. It was fun, really. She'd fallen asleep, sexually frustrated, but happy to be in his arms.

And, then, she'd woken up.

She'd only slipped out of bed to get a head start on her research, and to make coffee for him to wake up to. He'd kissed her head, and sat beside her, something he did quite regularly.

When she'd looked over at him, fully appreciating his rumpled and sleepy sexiness, something changed. Something inside her shifted, and she'd wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him. To finally let herself sink into everything that was Oliver Queen, everything she'd been waiting for.

And then, she'd panicked.

Faced with the very real possibility of crossing that last line, she'd been seized by fear. She'd been waiting five _long_ years for him to be ready to cross that line, with her, and when the opportunity had presented itself, she'd been the one to bolt. Suddenly, she'd felt like she had, the day he'd stepped into her office and introduced himself.

"_Felicity Smoak? Hi. I'm Oliver Queen."_

Her heart had skipped in her chest, and her brain had misfired. She'd started babbling before she'd even realized she'd spoken. She hadn't felt that way, around him, in years. The moment when she thought she might just get everything she'd been holding onto, she'd freaked out.

"What is wrong with me?" she chastised herself, as she pulled into a parking spot in front of her building.

She rushed upstairs, to shower and change, before she headed to the Foundry. She couldn't avoid him there, she knew. She was banking on him not wanting to discuss their issues in front of John, so she could buy herself a bit more time to figure things out. She knew that she wanted to be with him, more than anything in the world. There was no one who could even begin to compare to him, not for her. Oliver Queen was her future, and she was more than aware of that fact. Crossing the last line, the line they'd drawn five years ago, was daunting, and she needed time to let her brain catch up to her heart... And, her libido.

Stepping into her apartment, she closed the door behind her, and threw the lock. She was halfway down the hall when she realized the alarm hadn't prompted her to enter her code. Fear sliced through her, her veins running cold. Stopping in her tracks, she listened for any sound or indication that someone else was in the apartment. Not hearing anything, she turned in place, dragging her phone from her pocket to hit number one on her speed dial.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Felicity froze, every muscle in her body locking in terror. She knew that voice.

"Be a good girl, and hand me that phone, would you?" He stepped from around the corner, letting her see him.

"You." Felicity breathed.

"Me!" The Count grinned, sending a chill through her.

He strutted toward her, slipping the phone from her hand. He glanced at the screen, his eerie grin widening with apparent glee.

"Oh, I just _knew _he'd be your phone-a-friend."

Felicity's eyes darted over his shoulder, trying to decide if she had time and space enough to make it to the door before he could catch her.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. I do _so _like it when they run." He met her eyes, his threat clear.

"What do you want?" she asked, finding her voice and making it sound braver than she was actually feeling.

"Haven't I answered that question once before?." he cooed, tapping a finger against his chin.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped into her, leaning down until his lips were a mere breath from her ear, a shudder of fear running through her.

"This time, I'll settle for revenge."

Felicity heard the sound of movement, and gasped at the pin-prick in her neck, a beat before everything went black.

* * *

Oliver left the office, heading straight for the Foundry. Restless energy coursed through him, stemming from the frustration he felt over Felicity's avoidance. Each time he'd tried to find a moment alone, to ask her what was going on she skirted him. He'd only seen her in meetings, and then she was gone again.

He descended the stairs, finding the space empty. Diggle, he knew, had made a run home to bring Lyla the ice cream she was craving. Oliver had chuckled when Digg begged off, promising to meet him as soon as he could.

"Take your time, John." Oliver had grinned, reassuring his friend, "Lyla and the baby come before Arrow duty."

Oliver wasn't sure when they'd be seeing Felicity. She'd show, eventually, he knew. She took their work seriously, never bailing on them unless she absolutely had to. More often than not, it was Oliver forcing her to take a night off, promising to call her if they needed her.

Yes, she'd be there, he told himself.

Stripping out of his suit, he donned a pair of work-out pants, eager to burn off his excess energy.

Forty-five minutes later, he was dripping with sweat as he worked the salmon ladder, when he heard Digg's heavy footsteps on the stairs.

"How's she feeling?" Oliver asked, dropping heavily to the floor, and picking up a towel to swipe it across his chest.

"Better." Digg smiled, relief clear in his eyes, "Felicity's tea seems to be doing the trick."

"Good." Oliver grinned, glad to hear that Lyla was feeling better. He could see the worry in Digg's eyes over the last few months, and knew it was taking its toll on the expecting parents.

Digg glanced around the Foundry, his eyes finding a distinct lack of blonde. "She still avoiding you?" he asked Oliver, nodding towards Felicity's desk.

"Apparently." he answered, shaking his head before taking a drink from his sports bottle.

"Maybe she's still pissed about your little display of jealousy last night." Digg offered with a shrug.

Unsurprised by Digg's honesty, Oliver didn't try to deny his words. "No, it's not that." He frowned, "She forgave me for that, already."

"What do you think it is, then?"

"I have no idea." he answered, honestly, "When we went to bed, everything was fine. Great, actually. And then, this morning, it was like a switch flipped. One minute, she was teasing me about my watching her work, and the next she was... It was like she couldn't get away fast enough."

Diggle look contemplative, leaning against a metal table, arms crossed over his massive chest, "Just give it time, man. She'll talk to you when she's ready." he assured.

Oliver glanced at his watch, his brows knitting together, "She should be here by now. Or, at least called."

As if on cue, his phone buzzed against the table behind him. Having hoped it was Felicity, his face fell when he saw the caller-I.D. Lifting the phone to his ear, he answered.

"Detective Lance." he greeted, "What can I do for you?"

"Queen, I need you to come to the station." Lance told him, his voice carrying a trace of something that made Oliver's stomach sink.

"What happened?" Oliver demanded, already moving away from the table to drag a gray t-shirt over his head, one handed.

There was a tight silence on the other end of the line, Oliver picking up the sound of Lance swallowing thickly.

"I'd rather not do this over the phone, Oliver."

If his stomach had sunk before, it was now settled neatly in his feet. He couldn't remember the last time Lance had called him by his first name.

"What happened, Detective?" Oliver half shouted, as he ran up the stairs, shrugging into his brown leather, and out of the club, Diggle on his heels.

Lance cleared his throat, and when he spoke, Oliver could have sworn his heart stopped beating.

"We found a body." He sounded pained. "I.D says she's Felicity Smoak."

* * *

Oliver ran up the steps of the SCPD, barreling through the swinging doors he knew housed Detective Lance's desk.

"Where?" he snarled, as Lance sprang to his feet.

"We need to talk, first." He led the way to an interview room, closing the door behind Diggle.

Oliver's eyes swept the small room, taking in the long metal table with a small cardboard box at one end, and four chairs. He spun, pinning Lance with his glare.

"I want to see her." Oliver barked, his fists balled tightly against his sides.

"I don't recommend that, Oliver." Lance shook his head, motioning for him to sit.

Oliver was barely containing the tremors that were tearing through his body. He was vibrating with the effort, every muscles straining painfully.

"What. Happened." He ground, from between clenched teeth.

Lance relented, his face falling as he thrust a hand through his hair. "My boys responded to a 911 call, in the Glades. An elderly woman called it in, said her dumpster was on fire."

Oliver nodded jerkily, signaling his understanding.

"The fire department got the blaze under control quickly, but... there was already a lot of damage. When they checked inside, they found the body."

Oliver's stomach rolled, but he fought it. He couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now. Diggle stood stoically beside him. Oliver could read the pain etched on his face.

"They were able to salvage some identification from a bag found beside it." Lance continued, pulling the box across the table, and lifting the lid.

He jerked his head toward it, indicating he wanted Oliver to look inside.

He approached slowly, fighting himself every step of the way. Peering inside, he found multiple evidence bags. He shifted eyes to Lance, who nodded, understanding that he was asking permission to remove the items from the box. With trembling hands, Oliver reached for one of the bags, lifting it to inspect its contents. His eyes slammed shut, his head swimming dangerously.

In his hands, he held the melted remains of Felicity's cellphone. His fingers tightened around it, his heart pounding against his ribs. He felt Digg move up behind him, and handed him the bag, reaching into the box for another.

"They'll run DNA to be sure, but... We have to assume it's her. My guys are searching her apartment as we speak." Lance spoke solemnly.

Oliver often forgot that Lance and Felicity were friends, but the older man's tone reminded him. He could hear the pain in Lance's words, the sadness that was lingering just below the surface.

Oliver shifted through the rest of the bags, finding Felicity's wallet, her I.D melted, but legible, behind the plastic window. The next bag held what he knew were her keys, her pink and white panda key chain (a gift from him) melted and charred. He couldn't stop the way his fingers shook as he grazed them over the plastic, his eyes pricking with heat.

"I want to see her." he spoke quietly, his tone lethal.

Lance stood, gripping his shoulder. "No you don't. Trust me, son, that is not the last image you want of her." He tried to convince him.

"I need to see her, Detective." His voice broke, as he met the older man's eyes, imploring him to understand.

Lance glanced from Oliver to Diggle and back, before nodding shortly. "Let me go and talk to the M.E." he acquiesced, "Stay here. I'll be back soon."

Oliver watched him leave the room, closing the door firmly behind him. As the door clicked shut, Oliver sank into one of the chairs, burying his head in his palms, his grief threatening to undo him completely. He was trying desperately to hold himself together, but he could feel his resolve slipping. He tried to cling to the anger, to hold onto the fire that was burning in him, the desire to find whoever was responsible for this, and put them in the ground. He tried, grasping at whatever threads he could, to keep himself from falling apart.

He was failing, miserably.

He kept seeing her face, the way she smiled the one, and only, time he had admitted that he loved her. He heard her voice, soft and sweet, when she told him she was in love with him. He saw her eyes, sparkling with pride, whenever she managed to take him down during a sparring session. He heard her laughter, ringing in his ears like music, when he tickled her, pinning her beneath him. Her giggles echoed in his head, and he could feel her lips on his lips, her body pressing into his body, as her legs wrapped around his ribs, the night he'd kissed her senseless on the bar at Verdant.

Without realizing it, he'd pulled the arrowhead from beneath his t-shirt, his fingers worrying it between them. He thought of the way she'd looked at him, the day she'd given him the pendant. With a shudder, he realized he'd never be able see the look on her face when she opened the gift he'd bought her, just two days later. Why had he waited so long to give it to her? Why hadn't he just given it to her the day he picked it up? Why was it still sitting, tucked away in its box, in the desk drawer of his study?

As his finger skimmed along the edge of the arrowhead, he sat rod straight in his chair. Diggle eyed him, the grief on his face shifting into concern. He knew that no matter how torn up he was feeling, Oliver would be one hundred times worse.

"This is his doing, John." Oliver said tightly, his jaw straining.

Diggle was confused for a moment, before the realization struck him. "The Count." he said, wondering why the thought hadn't struck them faster.

"It has to be!" Oliver shot out of his seat, adrenaline surging through him. "It can't be a coincidence that she finds a trail, leading straight to him, less than two weeks ago, and now she's..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought, much less the sentence.

"Alright, so we operate under the assumption that he's behind this. How do we find him without her?" Diggle asked, his voice cracking a little over the last two words.

"Her tablet. She has everything on her tablet at the apartment." Oliver explained, tucking the arrowhead back under his shirt.

His chest tightened at the thought of going back to the apartment, knowing she wouldn't be there, that she'd never come home.

Lance chose that moment to reappear, his face dark. "You can see her, if that's what you need to do. I cleared it with the M.E. He wants to be sure you know that he advises against it, considering..."

Oliver nodded, but squared his shoulders. "I understand," he told the detective, "but, I need to see her. I need to see for myself."

"Follow me." Lance turned, leaving the room.

Oliver and Diggle fell into step behind him, letting him lead them to the morgue.

He felt the eyes on them, as they passed, no doubt wondering what Oliver Queen was doing heading to the morgue. Those of them who knew of his connection to Felicity, and knew what had happened, looked at him with pitying eyes, something that made his skin crawl. Pity was not something Oliver handled well.

Lance directed them through a set of double doors, leading down a long flight of stairs. As he followed Lance down, with Diggle right behind, Oliver tried to steel himself against what he was about to see. He knew that he could back out, refuse to see the body, and no one would think any less of him. However, he knew this would never be real to him, would never be the truth, until he saw it for himself. He knew he wouldn't be able to understand that she was gone until he saw a body.

Her body.

He swallowed against the acrid bile that rose in his throat, his heart thundering in his chest, blood rushing through his ears. He could feel a hole forming in his chest, where his heart was supposed to be. He could feel the darkness threatening to engulf him, to drag him under.

Lance stopped beside a set of doors that informed them they had reached the morgue. Oliver turned to Diggle, who could only shake his head, the emotion in his eyes enough to say what he couldn't. Oliver understood, and was thankful that Diggle wouldn't have this as his last memory of her. He patted the larger man's shoulder, letting him know that it was alright, he could do this alone.

Oliver followed Lance through the doors, and down a short hallway to find another door. Lance took a deep breath, then pushed the door open, ushering Oliver inside.

As he stepped over the threshold, Oliver's heart, once again, stopped beating. The breath left his lungs in a single gust, his steps faltering beneath him.

In the center of the room was a cold, metal gurney, draped in white. He wasn't sure if it was him, or the room, but suddenly everything felt like it was spinning. He stuck a hand out, finding the doorjamb, and leaning heavily against it. Lance came in behind him, squeezing his shoulder briefly before stepping around him to speak to the M.E. The white haired man nodded, allowing Detective Lance to lead him toward the door.

"I'll be right outside." Lance said, sympathy lacing his words.

He numbly nodded his thanks, stepping into the room, and allowing the detective to close the door behind him. Frozen in place, just inside the door, Oliver felt a sense of desolation he hadn't felt since before he'd gotten off Lian Yu. He felt like he was standing on the shores of his own, personal, purgatory, with no rescue in sight.

Forcing his feet to move, Oliver inched closer to the gurney, the sound of his ragged breathing echoing around the empty room, though he couldn't hear it, over the roaring in his ears. He came to a full stop, just inches from the metal slab. His trembling fingers reached out to ghost over the white sheet that covered the body of the love of his life.

Because, that's exactly what she was. Felicity was the love of Oliver's life. Standing, alone in the morgue, her body looming before him, he could acknowledge that.

She was everything that was good about him, everything that was pure. She kept him anchored to the present when his mind wanted to drag him into the past. She gave him hope for the future, when his thoughts couldn't see beyond the present. She was his perfect complement, his perfect foil. She was his Yin. She made him a whole person, when he'd thought that his damage was irreparable. She made him smile again, made him laugh, and it was genuine.

Now, here she was, covered by a sheet, laying in the middle of the morgue. Oliver felt the tears he'd fought against, swimming in his eyes. Everything around him blurred, as they finally fell, scorching down his cheeks like a brand. He let them come. If ever there was a more acceptable time for tears, Oliver couldn't think of what it would be. Losing your soul mate had to top that list, leaps and bounds ahead of anything else.

His fingers sought the chain around his neck, dragging the arrowhead out, once more. His hand fisted around the pendant, squeezing as tightly as his shaking muscles would allow. He didn't feel it, when the corner bit into his palm, drawing blood.

His free hand reached for the edge of the sheet, his fingers curling around it. He held the fabric so fiercely, his knuckles turned white with the strain. He attempted a deep breath to gather himself, which ended up being more of a choked sob, his throat constricting painfully. Ever so slowly, he began to lower the sheet.

He slammed his eyes closed against the sight, his stomach rebelling. Acid burned in his throat, the caustic taste of bile coating his tongue. His knees threatened to buckle, and Oliver swayed on the spot, the edges of his vision blurring gray.

Her face was blackened with char, unrecognizable as the beautiful woman he knew her to be. Her blonde hair was gone, leaving a mass of blackened, nothingness in its wake. Oliver forced his eyes open, forced himself to take it in, to really see what was before him.

He'd expected to feel consumed by the loss, for the throbbing hole in his chest to finally swallow him whole. He stared down at the body, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of devastation. He took in every detail that he could, from what was left. His eyes scanned for something, anything, that would trigger the avalanche of pain he knew would come.

His brow furrowed when his eyes fell on her right ear, where her industrial was supposed to be. Oliver knew, for a fact, that the piercing was never empty. There was always a barbell or a different pair of earrings in it. It was never empty, unless she was cleaning it and swapping out the hardware. But, looking at it now, he noted the absence of any jewelery where there should have been something.

Hope bloomed in his chest, a tiny glimmer of light in the cavern of darkness that had been slowly obliterating his chest. He was out the door before he'd consciously though to move, striding past Lance, and making his way quickly back to where they had left Digg.

As Oliver shoved through the set of doors, Digg's head snapped up, his reddened eyes betraying his own tears. At the expression on Oliver's face, he stood up straighter, bracing for whatever was coming.

Oliver met his eyes, his words tumbling out on a gust of air. "It's not her."


	7. Unwavering Faith

**Author's note: Hey guys! Happy New Year! Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. They are food for my writer's soul, and I love you for them! **

****WARNING: This chapter contains strong violence, and a shit ton more feels.****

**Reader discretion is strongly advised!**

* * *

Pain shot through the left side of her back, forcing her awake. The white hot sting of a knife slicing through her flesh brought tears springing to her eyes. She struggled, trying to twist away from the knife, away from the pain.

Oliver and Diggle had tried to teach her how to shut the out pain, how to stop herself from crying out against it, but, holy shit, that hurt!

Her eyelids felt like lead, but she forced them open, determined to see what was going on around her. Everything was blurry, forcing her to blink to clear her vision. Not that she could see much, anyway, as everything was cloaked in darkness. There was a small strip of light, that looked like it might be seeping in from under a closed door, on the opposite side of the room. As her vision cleared, and adjusted to the darkness, she caught a flash of movement from beside her, as the knife bit into her back, again.

She clamped her mouth shut, to stop the expletive that threatened to spill out. She tried to reach for her side, only to find that her wrists were firmly bound together behind her back. She made to move her legs, only to find them tightly tied to each leg of the chair she was, apparently, secured to. Paying more attention, she could feel the cold steel against her bare skin. Her stomach clenched when she realized she was only clad in her bra and panties.

Trying to calm herself, she squinted into the darkness, working on making out shapes, or shadows, anything to give her an idea of what was lingering there.

"Look who finally decided to join the festivities." Came the voice that instantly chilled her blood.

She fought against her fear, knowing that if she had any chance of ever getting out of here, ever seeing Oliver again, she had to be smart.

Oh! Oliver! Her heart thumped against her ribs as she thought of him. Her hero. He'd find her, she knew he would. She couldn't help the smirk that tugged at her lips.

"He'll find me." she spat, anger sparking to life inside of her. "He'll find me, and he'll kill you. For good."

She did cry out, this time, when the knife sliced into the skin below her left breast.

"Will he?" The Count taunted. "But, why would he bother to look for a dead girl?"

She stilled, her body throbbing with pain.

"Why would Oliver look for you, when you're already found? You're lying comfortably on a slab somewhere, wearing white. I bet that's not how you imagined him seeing you in white, was it?" his voice crept over her, like a thousand spiders dancing across her skin.

His words finally sank in, filling her with an icy sense of dread. What would be the only thing capable of making Oliver stop searching for her?

Finding her.

"You gave him a body. My body." She choked, tears spilling down her face.

"Bingo, bango! Someone get this girl an award." he sang, as the knife sank into her right hip.

She felt it as it grazed her bone, waves of excruciating pain crashing over her. She didn't even try to stop the scream that tore from her chest. The burn in her muscle increased, beyond the limits of her comprehension, as the cold blade slowly slid from her body. She gasped as her head jerked back, his hand wrapped in her ponytail, forcing her to comply.

"He's not even looking for you, dear! He's too busy mourning your loss, I'm afraid." he hissed, right against her ear.

"He'll find me." she panted, praying that she was right. Praying that Oliver would know that she was still alive, that she needed him.

She heard the footsteps move beside her, stopping by her knees. She didn't have time to brace herself for the fist that connected solidly with her cheek. Her head snapped to the side, her glasses bit into the bridge of her nose and, blissfully, everything once again, faded into nothing.

* * *

Oliver thundered up the stairwell of Felicity's apartment building, too much adrenaline coursing through him for him to wait for the elevator. Diggle was following, a half floor behind.

Since they'd left the SCPD, he had been focusing on constructing a plan, coming up with what he thought was a solid course of action. They hadn't even stepped out of the precinct when he was dialing Roy's number, demanding he and Thea be ready to board the Queen jet the moment it touched down in Gotham. Roy had balked, before the worry seeped into his tone as he asked what was happening. Oliver had ended the call, knowing that he couldn't begin to explain the situation, properly, over the phone.

Now, two fifths of the Arrow team wound their way up to the eighth floor, to Felicity's apartment. They'd gotten permission from Lance to enter, his team already having finished their search, finding nothing to indicate a struggle. Oliver knew that he and Digg could find things the police had missed, as well as get their hands on her tablet, which hadn't been among the possessions found with the body. Which meant, it was either in the apartment, or with her, wherever she was. Oliver prayed for the former.

He exited the stairwell, his legs carrying him swiftly down the hall to her door. Using his key, he opened the door and moved quickly inside. Being driven by his singular focus, he jogged down the hallway to the bedroom, finding her tablet plugged in, resting on her nightstand, where it normally was when not in use. He retrieved it, then headed back to the front of the apartment.

He found Digg surveying the living room, his eyes scanning every inch of space for anything that might be out of place. Oliver swiped a finger over the surface of the tablet, where he was prompted to enter a password. He entered it quickly, thankful that she had trusted him enough to tell him what it was. His heart stuttered in his chest, his eyes pricking with heat, as he recalled the night she had entrusted him with it.

"_Come on, Felicity!" Oliver had begged. "Please?"_

_She eyed him speculatively, a grin tugging the corners of her mouth up before she smothered it._

"_Can I trust you?" she asked, not for the first time._

_He grinned, recalling the first time they'd had this conversation. "Yes." he told her seriously. "You can trust me." When she hesitated he added, "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."_

_She arched a brow in amusement. "You do realize that I don't actually need your password, right?" she challenged._

_He nodded. "It's symbolic." _

"_Fine." she relented, scooting closer, tucking herself to his side on the couch._

_She pulled up the password screen, turning the tablet so that he could watch her enter it. She couldn't say the words out loud, but she could damn well let him see. _

"_Zelenyy-Strelka" He watched her type._

_He was quiet for a long moment, his chest swelling with something he hadn't fully understood at the time. She turned her head, her eyes apprehensively searching for his reaction. His gaze landed on hers, and he took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly._

"_Green Arrow." He smiled tenderly, his thumb trailing over her knuckles._

_She grinned proudly. "In Russian."_

Shaking off the memory, and the pain it sparked, he started sifting through the file he knew contained everything she had compiled on The Count and his cohorts. Not able to make sense of what he was looking at, beyond a few things he'd already discussed with Felicity, he locked the screen and slipped the tablet into the interior pocket of his jacket.

"Find anything?" he asked, lifting his gaze to Diggle, who was crouched down in the hallway.

"Was this here when you left this morning?" Digg asked, pointing to a scrape in the burnt orange paint, right above the floorboard.

Oliver strode over, and squatted beside him, tilting his head at the spot.

"No," He shook his head."It looks like it was made by a high heel." he observed.

"That's what I was thinking. He must have grabbed her here. Maybe he was waiting when she got home." Digg suggested.

Oliver was already up, striding back into the main room, thrusting his hand through his short locks in frustration. He prowled the space, muscles corded with strain as he struggled to contain his anger. As he passed the front door for the second time, he stalled, raising his head and turning towards it. His eyes fell on the black control box, situated three quarters of the way up the wall, beside the door.

"Did you disarm the alarm?" Oliver demanded, turning to glance at Digg before approaching the box.

"No, I thought you did when you came in."

Oliver lifted a hand to run a finger along the edge of the control panel.

"It should have gone off if the code wasn't entered withing the allotted time." He spoke more to himself than to Digg, "It should have sent an alert to the security company, who would call Felicity and I."

His finger grazed over a spot where it felt like the wall had been damaged. Bending to peer beneath it, Oliver saw what looked like a depression where someone had pried the box away from the wall. He slipped his knife from his pocket, and used it to force the panel out. Pulling it away from the wall, he gave the wires a once over.

"Damn it." he grumbled, before stepping to the side to allow Digg to see what he found.

"What the hell is that?" Digg asked, his brows pulling together.

"It's some kind of tech." Oliver explained, lifting the wire gently, where the black device, no bigger than a quarter, blinked red, "It must be disrupting the signal."

"Rendering an alarm useless." Digg finished.

Oliver used his knife to cut the wire above, and below, where the device clung to it. The alarm immediately sounded, sending a piercing whine through the apartment. Oliver tried to manually enter the code, but the control panel wouldn't accept it. Almost instantly, his phone vibrated against his thigh, the security company asking if he was in the apartment and if he needed assistance.

Oliver quickly explained that the control panel was malfunctioning and that they needed to enter the code from their office. The operator asked him for the code, to confirm his identity, the noise cutting out as soon as he had given it.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he turned back to Diggle. "When Thea gets home, I'm going to get her started on trying to trace this." He held up the innocuous looking device. "And, have Roy start going over her files. There has to be something in there."

"You think Roy can find something that she missed?" Digg asked, the sound of his voice conveying his disbelief.

"Felicity believes in him." Was the only explanation Oliver offered.

Digg hesitated, unsure how to voice what he knew Oliver didn't want to hear. What he himself, didn't want to think. "Oliver... I think you have to be realistic about this. The police-"

"She is _not _dead." Oliver growled, his Arrow voice fully taking hold.

Digg could only watch as Oliver turned on his heel and stalked out the front door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

Early the next morning, just as the sun had barely begun to peek over the horizon, the Queen jet touched down in Starling City. Diggle was waiting on the tarmac, with the car, as Roy and Thea disembarked. He could see the worry in Thea's eyes as she ran to him.

"What's going on Digg?" she asked, breathlessly, struck by the mournful expression he wore. "Where's Ollie?"

Roy came up behind her, placing a calming hand against her lower back. Digg nodded to the younger man.

"I'll explain in the car." he told them, opening the door to the backseat and motioning for them to climb in.

Thea took Roy's hand, clinging to him nervously. She hadn't been able to reach Oliver, and Roy had said that he'd sounded desperate when they spoke. Scenarios ran through her mind, each one worse than the last, until she was chewing her nails anxiously.

Not three minutes had passed before Diggle was sliding into the driver's seat, and pulling away from the airport.

"Digg." Thea begged, shifting forward in the seat, her voice rising with stress."What's going on?!"

"It's Felicity. She's..." Diggle's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat forcefully, "The police found a body. They think it's her."

Thea's hand flew to her mouth to stifle the gasping sob she could feel fighting its way up her chest.

Roy squeezed her hand, before speaking, "What do _we_ think?" he asked.

Diggle met the younger man's eyes in the mirror, before flicking them back to the road, "Oliver doesn't believe she's gone."

"You disagree?" Roy pressed.

"I think that either way, the Count won't live long enough to regret it." Digg said fiercely.

Thea finally spoke, as Diggle's words sank in. "The Count is alive? Oh, God. Ollie must be losing it."

Diggle didn't have to look to know that she had tears streaming down her face. He nodded, one sharp jerk of his head. "He's not handling it well." he admitted.

"What can we do?" Roy asked, ready to act.

"Oliver's at the Foundry, waiting for us. I'll let him explain everything."

Roy fell back against the seat, pulling Thea with him. He turned her into his chest, closing his eyes as she tucked her head under his chin. He could feel the tears that were falling, unchecked, against his throat. His hand ran soothingly over her hair, comforting her as much as he could, given the circumstances. He was well aware of Thea's love for Felicity, and knew that nothing short of bringing her home would help ease the pain.

Worse, seeing Thea so devastated made Roy anxious about what kind of shape they would find Oliver in, when they reached the Foundry.

* * *

The loud thwack of wood biting into the sparing dummy rang through the open space like machine gun fire. It was rapid, and repetitive, Oliver not giving himself a chance to slow down. All of his pent up aggression needed an outlet, while he was forced to remain inactive, to do nothing, while he waited for Diggle to return with Thea and Roy.

He focused on his attack, upping his strikes until he felt the muscles across his shoulders burn with the effort. Gritting his teeth, he forced his arms to keep moving, to keep up the punishing pace. With a loud crack, the rod in his right hand splintered, bits of wood ricocheting around him. He threw both rods to the ground in disgust, instead attacking the dummy with his fists.

Keeping his mind zeroed in on inflicting damage, he didn't even notice when his knuckles began to split. He didn't feel the blood as it trickled down his hands. His eyes were becoming bleary and unfocused, and he knew the tears were trying to push themselves to the surface.

Frustrated, guilty, hot, angry tears had been trying to swallow him since he'd heard those words:

"_We found a body. I.D says she's Felicity Smoak."_

The words continued to ring in his ears, echoing in his mind until he couldn't hear anything but them. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, hadn't stopped moving, since he'd left the police station. The threat of a total nuclear meltdown kept him running.

But, running was wearing thin, and his body was losing the war.

Oliver fell to his knees, succumbing to the weight of his pain. He dropped his head into his hands, unknowingly smearing blood into his short, blonde hair. Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could manage, he fought to suppress the emotions that were struggling to unleash themselves.

Guilt, because he hadn't been able to protect her. Or, protect the woman the Count had killed in her place. Because, no matter what John Diggle and Quentin Lance had to say, that was _not_ Felicity laying in the morgue.

Anger, that she was out there, somewhere, and she needed him, but he wasn't there. Anger at himself, that he hadn't killed the Count the first fucking time, and now Felicity was in danger, once again, because of his mistake.

Frustration, because now, he didn't know where she was, or how he was going to find her. He knew she was suffering, probably in terrible pain, and there was nothing he could do to help her.

Underwriting all of that was gnawing fear.

Fear that he wouldn't be able to find her, at all. Fear that she was lost to him, forever, before he'd had a chance to tell her that she was everything to him. And, when he was at his weakest, the fear that she was already dead. That the body draped in a white sheet did, indeed, belong to his blonde hurricane.

With a grunt, he pushed himself off the floor as the sound of the security door being accessed alerted him to their arrival.

Thea was the first to reach the bottom, crossing the room to throw herself into her brother's arms. Closing his eyes, Oliver held her, needing her comfort as much as she needed his. Sobs shook her lean frame, and he had to fight the tears pricking behind his eyes.

Roy approached them, stopping far enough away to give the siblings their own space, Diggle taking up the space beside him.

Thea pulled out of her brother's arms, stepping back to take his hand as her eyes searched his face. His eyes were raw, and red-rimmed, testament to the tears he'd shed. Pain was etched clearly into every shadow, every line, of his face. Thea dropped his hand, stepping back another step.

"Ollie, I am so sorry." she whispered, no strength in her quavering voice.

He met her gaze, his eyes hardening as she watched, his jaw setting determinedly. "She is _not _dead." he growled through gritted teeth, his shoulders tightening as he fought to keep his rage contained.

"How do you know that? How can you be sure?" Thea argued. She wasn't trying to hurt him, she just wanted him to be realistic.

"Because I saw the body, Thea!" Oliver bellowed, his control slipping. "It's not her. If Felicity were dead, I would know!"

Thea's eyes slid to Roy, silently asking him to help her.

Roy stepped forward, not so much as flinching when Oliver leveled him with a glare. He put his palms up in a placating gesture.

"What do we need to do?" Roy asked, resolutely.

Oliver's face softened a fraction, as he once again realized that he was not the only one suffering. Everyone in this room loved Felicity, in their own way, and each of them was doing their best to deal with the cards they'd been dealt.

Oliver made his way to Felicity's desk, picking up the signal interrupter, and turning to face his sister. "Thea, I need you to trace this." he told her, extending it in her direction, his tone clipped, but more level than it had been.

She held out a hand, letting him drop the tech into her open palm, "What is it?"

"The Count used it to interfere with the alarm system at her apartment. I'm hoping that you can find out where it came from."

She nodded, already shucking her coat, draping it over the chair, and examining the device.

Oliver approached Roy, holding out Felicity's tablet. "I need you to go through everything she compiled about The Count, and see if you can find something that can tell us where to look."

"How do we know it's him?" Roy asked, taking the already unlocked tablet that Oliver held out.

"It's him." Oliver told him, though he was already walking away.

"Where are you going?" Diggle inquired, watching Oliver remove his suit from its case.

"I'm going to have a word with Commissioner Wilhelm." Oliver informed him, stalking away to don his green leather.

Thea turned her chair to face Diggle, concern clear in her expression. "You can't let him go alone. Not in his condition."

"I'll be his backup, Thea." Digg assured her. "Don't worry, I've got his back."

She smiled weakly. "I know."

She turned back to the computer, bowing her head as she studied the device, looking for anything she could use to trace its origin.

Oliver emerged, seconds later. He stopped long enough to pick up his bow and quiver, let them know he'd be on the comms, and then he was heading up the stairs. Diggle was right behind him, not letting him argue his presence.

Roy walked up behind Thea, settling his hands on either side of her neck. He massaged her collarbone with deft hands, knowing that she carried all of her stress there.

"We'll find her." Roy said, his conviction clear in his voice.

"What if she's already gone? What if she really is dead, and Oliver just can't accept it because he loves her?" she asked softly, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.

Roy sighed, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Thea, the kind of connection that they have... It runs deep. No one knows her like he does. If he says... If he _feels _that she's still out there, we have to trust him."

"Would you feel it?" she queried, knowing that he'd understand what she was asking.

He slipped his hands up to cup her face, stroking a thumb across each of her cheeks, his eyes never leaving hers as he looked down into her gaze.

"I'd feel it." he promised, "Everyday. For the rest of my life."


	8. Queens and Comitis

**Author's note: Hello again, my dears! As a thanks for your unwavering support, I decided that you deserved another update :D **

****This chapter contains strong violence. Reader discretion is advised.** **

* * *

"He's alone. I'm going in." Oliver murmured into his comm-link.

"I've got the security feed redirected. You've got ten minutes, tops." Thea informed him, her voice so strikingly different from the one that was usually in his ear.

"All clear on my end." Digg responded from his position, one floor below.

Oliver didn't hesitate. He stepped away from the wall, pivoted, and used the full force of his powerful legs to kick in the door of the commissioner's office. Wood splintered, the door crashing inward, as the glass panel shattered. Oliver raised his bow quickly, his arrow already nocked, and found his target.

The gray-haired man behind the desk paled with recognition, his eyes focusing on the tip of the arrow. Oliver could see the fear in his wrinkled face.

"Where is Count Vertigo?!" Oliver demanded, his altered voice reverberating through the room.

"I- I have n- no idea." Wilhelm sputtered, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Do not lie to me! You've been pay-rolling his operation. Where is he?" Oliver shouted from beneath his hood, stepping closer to where the man cowered behind his desk.

"I don't know!" he insisted, his words pleading.

Oliver drew back, and released, his arrow hitting the wall beside Wilhelm's head. The man threw his arms over his head in an effort to protect it, ducking as low as he could, while remaining in his chair.

"I won't ask again." Oliver snarled, the threat implicit.

Wilhelm let his arms drop, glancing in Oliver's direction, realizing that there was a new arrow, and it was aimed at his heart. He seemed to debate quickly, before making a decision.

"I don't know where he's holed up!" He flinched when Oliver drew back on his bowstring. "BUT! I know someone who does."

"You have five seconds." Oliver's aim never wavered.

"One of my officers, Kevin Reynolds. He's the go-between. Plausible deniability." His words left him in a rush.

Oliver released his arrow, letting it tear through Wilhelm's left shoulder, less than an inch from his heart. The sounds of his anguish followed Oliver down the hall as he made his way out of the building.

"Find him." he bit out.

"I'm already working on it." Thea assured.

* * *

The darkness was oppressive, clinging to her, pressing her further into unconsciousness. She fought against it, clawing her way out of the grasp of tendrils that tried to drag her back. Her eyes cracked open, feeling like sandpaper. Her glasses had broken the last time he'd hit her, falling uselessly to the floor near her feet. She was still bound to the chair, still trapped.

Everything was much the same as the last time she'd opened her eyes.

Except for the pain. Every part of her body hurt, from her head to her toes. Not an inch of skin, or nerve, seemed unaffected by the pain that she'd succumbed to. Her head throbbed, her brain feeling like it was too big for her skull. She could taste blood, and knew that her teeth had done a number on the interior of her cheeks.

She attempted an inventory of her injuries, trying to catalogue them in her mind. Her hip was the worst, she thought. The knife had definitely glanced off the bone, and the pain was intense. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and ordering her mind to block out that particular wound.

She shifted in the chair, the cold metal making her naked back arch away from its surface. In her haste to stop the contact, her skin tightened, and she could feel the cuts on her back. She could tell they were deep, from the depth of the burning sensation coursing through her.

Forcing herself to detach from the pain, like Oliver had taught her, she commanded her brain to follow orders.

Trying to evaluate the rest of her injuries, she systematically flexed each muscle, discovering where the wounds were, and where she was the worst off. Her hip definitely seemed to be the most painful, but there was a long gash, running horizontally, along the inside of her thigh that pulsed with jagged pain.

The door she'd noticed before swung open, letting light spill into the darkened room. Felicity squinted against it, her eyes having become well adjusted to the lack of light. A shadow filled the doorway, before the light was extinguished with a slam of the door.

"Finally!" The Count said, excitedly. "I thought you might have checked out on me, for good. There's a beautiful pool of blood around your feet."

Felicity was silent, biting her tongue to stop the angry retort from falling from her lips.

"Come now, sweetheart. Don't be like that. Our party is just getting started!"

As he spoke, he stepped closer to her. She shuddered when his knee grazed hers. Unable to see what he was doing, she couldn't predict his movements, and it left her with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

She pushed it down, dragging up her lessons. Oliver had taught her how to maintain a calm exterior, in the face of an enemy. He'd drilled into her how to keep her wits about her, even when she was drowning in fear. He'd showed her how to use all of her senses, how to take in her surroundings even if she couldn't see or hear them, so she'd never be left blind. He'd taught her everything she knew about the superhero business, and right now, she needed those skills more than she needed anything.

"Very well!" The Count sighed. "You don't feel like talking."

Felicity heard him shuffling around her, felt the brush of air over her skin as he passed her. She listened, hearing the clink of metal on metal, and the crack of plastic.

The air stirred around her, once more, and he was back beside her knee. "I'll propose a deal." he offered. "You stop giving me the silent treatment and I'll give you this."

She felt the cool plastic against her skin, where he pressed it to her bare chest. She held her tongue.

"You must be thirsty! You've been stuck in this room for three days, with no water. I can rectify that, if you so choose." He moved, what she guessed was a bottle of water, away from her chest, and raised it to her lips, letting liquid slosh against her mouth.

Her lips parted of their own will, eagerly accepting the room temperature water he was offering. All too soon, he was pulling the bottle away.

"Ah-ah-ah!" he admonished, "Use your words."

"Bite me." she spat.

The Count laughed loudly, his laughter booming through the blackness. "You're quite feisty, aren't you, dear?" he asked, his tone menacing and teasing, at the same time. "I like that about you. In fact, it's half the reason you're still alive."

Felicity straightened in her chair, wincing as a cut across her ribs protested. "Half the reason?" she croaked, her voice rough with dehydration.

"Mmm..." he hummed. "I wanted to keep you around, for a bit. Partly, because you're an amusing little spitfire, whom I'm looking forward to playing with." He trailed his fingers through the valley between her breasts.

She fought the bile, as it rose in her throat, her back stiffening at his touch.

"And, partly, because when you finally do turn up, dead and broken, our dear hero will suffer. He will suffer, knowing that all the time he was mourning your death, you were with me. He'll hate himself, because he failed you. He let you be tortured, and maimed, at the hands of the 'psychopath' he failed to free this city of, when he had the chance."

Felicity shut her eyes, going over his words in her mind, like Oliver taught her. He said "this city", which meant that she was still in Starling. Being close to home, close to Oliver, made her think a little straighter.

The rest of his plan played over in her head. Her heart broke as she realized his plan could actually work. If she turned up, days or weeks, or even months from now, Oliver would blame himself. He would turn his guilt into self-hatred, for leaving her in The Count's hands, and he would lose control.

It would ruin him.

"He won't give up, you know." She tried to maintain a steady voice. "He won't believe that I'm dead, and he _will _come for me."

She felt him lean in, his breath hot on her face. She felt the knife, as it trailed over the thin skin covering the swell of her breast.

"There is no trail to follow, no one he can threaten, to find out where you are. You are mine, for as long as I'll have you. And, when I've finished?" he murmured against her ear, "I'll send you back... In pieces."

* * *

Oliver stomped down the stairs of the Foundry, tension radiating off him in waves. He threw his bow and quiver down on the table, and stalked across the room, stopping beside Thea.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"I don't know, Ollie." She turned to look up at him, a flash of guilt in her eyes. "Without his cell, I have no other way of tracking him."

"Wilhelm must have tipped him off, told him to run." Diggle interjected, as he approached.

"I guess he left his cell behind, hoping you'd go there first. It bought him more time." Thea frowned, angry and frustrated that she hadn't mastered the skills she needed to find The Count's hideout.

Oliver's face was hard, as he looked at her. He knew it wasn't Thea's fault that she had sent him to an empty apartment, where Reynolds' cellphone sat, unattended, on his desk. It wasn't Thea's fault that she didn't have the extensive skills that Felicity had acquired. She was learning, but they couldn't wait for her to figure it out. They needed results now.

"Nothing on facial recognition?" Oliver asked Diggle, turning away from Thea. He didn't want her to see the anger and frustration on his face, and put it on herself.

"Nothing yet." Digg confirmed. "But, he's a cop, Oliver. He knows how to hide in plain sight, and screw with the software."

Oliver dreaded his next question, but he needed the answer. "Has the DNA come back yet?"

Thea spoke up from behind him. "It did, but the sample was corrupted. They're running it again."

Oliver scrubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion palpable. He hadn't slept more than a handful of hours in the three days since Felicity had been presumed dead. Every time he tried to close his eyes he'd seen her face. He'd heard her in his ears, telling him that she was in love with him.

No. Sleep wasn't easy to come by.

As if reading his mind, Digg dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?" he suggested. "Go lay down, and I'll wake you up when we find something."

"I can't sleep, Digg." Oliver shook his head defiantly. "I can't. Believe me, I've tried."

"Try again." He spoke softly, but Oliver heard the order behind his words.

Oliver relented, dragging himself away, to change out of his leather.

Diggle and Thea watched him go, both of them unsure what else they could do. They knew that nothing they could say would ease his suffering, unless they found Felicity. Every hour that passed chipped away at that goal, making it seem less and less likely.

"Do you think he'll ever get over this?" Thea asked, turning her eyes up to Digg's face.

"No," He shook his head. "I honestly don't."

"What do we do?" She was begging Digg to find an answer, something, anything, to make her brother's pain stop.

"We find The Count, and pray, that by some miracle, she's still alive."

"And, if not?" Thea whispered, the sadness in her tone making Diggle's heart ache.

Digg's eyes followed Oliver, as he emerged from the bathroom, now dressed in a gray t-shirt and black workout pants. He watched him drop down onto the training mats, where Felicity always sat when she needed to find solace.

"Let's hope we don't have to find out."

* * *

Oliver stretched out, face down, and pillowed his head on his arms. Staring at the wall, he remembered the first night he'd found her there, drunk and drowning in pain, searching for something to keep her afloat. He recalled the way she'd let her walls down, let him see everything she'd been trying to conceal. He thought of how he'd tried to soothe her, by explaining that The Count was dead, and she was safe.

He felt like an asshole, now, knowing what he knew. He felt the guilt weigh heavy on his shoulders, that he hadn't ended the reign of terror, like he thought he had.

To distract himself from the emotions keeping him firmly in the waking world, he tried to let his mind wander into safer territory. He conjured up the image of Felicity, smiling and laughing, when he'd taken her to the park, to feed the ducks. She'd been so carefree that day, scattering cracked corn on the ground, and giggling as the ducks pushed one another out of the way.

He remembered the way the wind had turned her cheeks pink, and blew her hair around her face. He remembered the punch of desire he'd felt when he tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and she'd gazed up at him with wide, adoring, eyes. With an ache in his chest, he recalled having to force himself to press his lips to her forehead, instead of against hers, in a bruising kiss.

Oliver was so intent on reliving the memory, he didn't even notice when he finally drifted to sleep.

* * *

He heard his name being called, sounding as though it were coming from a great distance. His ears pricked, listening harder.

"OLIVER!" The voice shouted, the urgency in its tone clear.

His eyes sprang open, his body jerking awake. He realized he had managed to fall asleep, and that he was still sprawled out on the training mats. Pushing himself up, he lifted his body from the floor, lumbering to his feet.

"Oliver!" Thea's voice finally cut through the fog in his brain.

Turning to search her out, he found her standing three feet away from him, her face shining with hope.

"Roy found something." A tentative smile touched her lips, as she motioned for him to follow her.

Oliver immediately fell into step behind her, halting when he stood beside Roy, who was now sitting at Felicity's desk, Diggle flanking his left side. The tablet was connected to her computer, the information more easily seen on the larger monitor.

"What did you find?" Oliver demanded, attempting to limit the hope he felt growing in his chest. He didn't want to hope, only to have it snatched away from him.

Roy turned in the chair, his eyes meeting Oliver's, briefly, before he motioned back to the monitor. "I was going through the files Felicity compiled, with everything she found on The Count." Roy began. "I used her new software to dig a little deeper, and I found another identity."

"What do you mean, 'identity'?" Oliver asked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to his brain.

"The Count is using the same alias he used when Merlyn was pay-rolling his operation." Roy clarified. "Or, he was. I think he used it, purposely, to draw Felicity's attention. He knew that if anyone would find it, it would be her. He wanted her to know he was coming."

Oliver jerked his head, showing that he was following.

Roy continued. "This identity, the one that I found, it's linked to Wilhelm and Reynolds through one of their other associates, a guy they call Muerte."

"Death." Oliver felt his fists ball against his sides as the anger surged through him, laced heavily with fear for Felicity.

"Right." Roy confirmed. "So, this Muerte is a recent arrival to Starling City. Like, within the last three months, recent."

"Which is when The Count resurfaced." Diggle threw in, crossing his arms as he listened.

"Exactly. Muerte works for a guy known as 'Comitis', which is Latin for Earl."

Oliver looked at him expectantly, indicating her hadn't made the connection.

"A Count and an Earl are the same thing." Roy explained, his fingers dropping back to the keyboard, pulling up a satellite view of the docks. "Comitis has been careful to keep himself in the shadows, but not careful enough. I found a police report from some dude who got busted for possession of a narcotic, a month ago. He was higher than a kite when they busted him, so the cops didn't believe him when he started rambling about Queens and Comitis, and a castle surrounded by a moat."

Roy zoomed in on one section of the docks, and an old stone building filled the screen. Oliver stepped closer, trying to see what Roy was pointing out. If he kind of squinted, it might look a little like a mansion, but definitely not a castle. Just as he was about to ask Roy what he was looking at, a sign above the door caught his attention.

"Castle Wall Brewery." Oliver read, aloud, his chest tightening as the pieces fell together.

"And, it's surrounded, on three sides, by water." Thea put in, unable to contain the hint of excitement in her voice.

"A moat..." Oliver's head was reeling.

Roy's eyes were hard as they met Oliver's. "We found the bastard."


	9. In The Darkest Hour

**Author's note: I wanted to thank all of you for the amazing reviews! Know that I read each and every one of them, and try to respond to as many as I can. You guys are the best, and I can't thank you enough for your support :)**

_****This chapter contains strong, graphic violence. Reader discretion is strongly advised.****_

* * *

Felicity's head felt heavy. She shook it, trying to clear out some of the cobwebs. She'd lost track of time after the last time The Count had come to taunt and torture her. She tried to sleep, to hold onto the last bit of strength she could, knowing she'd need it when Oliver came for her.

He would come. She knew he would come for her, like he always did. The only question was when, and she had to be ready to move the second she saw his face. Or, his hood... She wasn't sure which Oliver he'd be when he found her, but it didn't matter.

She loved all of them.

The billionaire playboy, the gorgeous CEO of a billion dollar company, The Vigilante, The Hood, The Arrow, or just plain Oliver Queen. He was the man of her dreams. He was the other half of her, the piece that made her feel whole.

And, he would come for her.

Her shoulders ached from being drawn tight, her hands still secured behind her. Her back and hips burned, from being stuck in the upright position, on a solid metal chair, for however many days she'd been there. She knew the skin beneath her bindings was cracked, bleeding and raw, because she felt it every time she moved, even the slightest bit.

Her throat was dry, The Count having abandoned his water deal when she'd refused to utter a single word. He'd, instead, opted for an IV drip, to keep her alive. She'd struggled, at first, but had given up when she realized she'd need to be alive when Oliver came for her.

There were things she didn't know, anymore. She didn't know what day it was, or how long she'd been in this dark hole. She didn't know the last time she'd eaten, or the last time she'd heard anyone's voice, besides The Count. She didn't know if she could walk, or if she could run, with how badly her hip ached. She didn't know if her legs worked at all, anymore.

But, there were two things she did know.

She knew she loved Oliver, with every fiber of her being.

And, she knew that he would come for her.

Her eyes slid closed, her chin falling to rest against her chest. She smelled the coppery tang of blood, reminding her that she had two deep cuts, one on and one just beside, her left breast. They were a present from The Count, when he'd promised to cut out her heart, and mail it to Oliver, the last piece he'd send to him. The memory made the acid in her belly churn, as a blend of fear and pain tightened around her heart.

She knew that if she ever made it out of this, her body would be littered with scars. The thought didn't bother her as much as it probably should have. She would just be grateful to be alive, she promised herself. She would be thankful to be breathing, to still be a part of the world she'd grown to love. She would see her scars as the reminder that she was stronger than she'd ever thought possible.

Besides, Oliver wouldn't judge her for her scars. He would love her, just the same. She tried not to think about it for too long, because the longer she let the thoughts swirl in her mind, the more worried she became that she was lying to herself.

Felicity didn't so much as flinch when the door swung open, clattering loudly against the wall. Bright light flooded into the room, and she was forced to shut her eyes, but remained otherwise motionless. She heard the door click shut, and all light left the room, save for the glowing strip beneath the door.

She heard The Count's familiar footfalls as he came to stand in front of her. He grabbed her ponytail, jerking her head back so that she was forced to look up at him, though she could only make out the vague outline of his head and shoulders. He bent down, his lips brushing over hers. Her stomach turned, revolted, but there was nothing in it for her to throw up. Instead, her throat burned with bile as she gagged.

"Good evening, Miss Smoak." he spoke, his breath hot and suffocating on her face.

She didn't have to bite back words, the snark gone out of her hours, maybe days, ago. Instead she remained silent, waiting for the blow she knew would come. He always hit her when she refused to play along with his twisted games.

He let her head drop, lolling uselessly against her chest, once more.

"You used to be so much fun." he told her, his tone soft, but threatening. "What can we do about that? How might we bring back a bit of that_ fire_?"

Felicity closed her eyes, tears forming behind her lids.

She heard him moving around behind her. She heard the hiss before she smelled the heavy scent of gas, and then came the unmistakable click of a friction lighter, as the room was cast in a glowing light. A light she was familiar with, having spent many nights by candlelight or the warmth of a fireplace.

Firelight.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, tears slipping down her cheeks. She thought maybe she whimpered, but she couldn't be sure.

"Yes." The Count sounded pleased, even a bit aroused. "This will do quite nicely."

He stepped back around, stopping in front of her. She struggled to lift her head, to see what he was doing, so she could prepare for whatever was coming. She blinked rapidly, clearing her vision as much as she could, without her glasses. The light thrown from the blowtorch turned blue, as he adjusted the flame. It cast his face in eerie shadow, making him appear more threatening than she'd thought possible. In the gloved hand that wasn't holding the torch, he held a long metal rod, with a point on one end, like a fireplace poker.

Felicity could feel the blood drain from her face, her fists clenching behind her.

He lowered the rod into the flame, and watched her, while she watched the metal turn orange with heat. He grinned, his eyes dancing with delight, when she started struggling against her bindings. The rope dug into her already rubbed raw, torn flesh, but she couldn't feel it. All she could feel was the heavy dread that wrapped around her lungs, the mind numbing terror that enveloped her body.

He advanced on her, holding the rod out, just barely touching her skin. The heat thrown from the metal was intense, her skin blistering at once. She fought the urge to cry out, knowing it would only serve to excite him further.

Seeing the determined set of her jaw, The Count sneered, his restraint falling away, "You _will_ scream for me." he snarled.

Felicity had the time it took to blink to prepare herself, before he rested the tip of the poker against the flesh of her pelvis, right above her panty line. She bit her tongue so hard that she tasted blood, forcing the scream to stay in her lungs.

He lifted the hot metal, admiring his handy work. Her stomach churned, the smell of burning flesh making her gag again.

Before she could recompose herself, he was dropping the rod again, this time on the opposite side, but still over her hip. When the pain reached down to the bone, she realized he was cauterizing the wound he'd left when he'd stabbed her and the blade had glanced off of her pelvis. The scream of agony tore from her chest, her finger nails digging into her palms, as she fought to stay conscious.

He pushed the hot metal, forcing it under her skin. She felt the room tilt under her, and heard a new scream rip its way up her throat, a second before everything faded away, and all she knew was oblivion.

* * *

Oliver dropped into a crouch with his back against the south side of the roof, his bow ready, and his body coiled in preparation for the oncoming fight.

"I'm in position." Diggle's hushed voice came over the comm-link. "I've got eyes on two armed guards at the front entrance."

Roy's report came next. "I've got two at the back. Also armed."

"There are four up here, same deal." Oliver informed them in a hushed tone. "Thea?"

"I've got seven bodies inside the building." She relayed from the Foundry. "Two on the ground, three on the third, and two in the middle. There are two other signatures with the two on the second floor, but they're a lot smaller. I can't tell what they are, beyond the fact that they're a much higher temperature than the others."

"Does this seem excessive to anyone else?" Roy whispered, but Oliver ignored him.

Oliver weighed their options carefully, considering the best plan of attack. Four guards on the roof meant that The Count was expecting Oliver would come, one way or the other. He knew that Oliver would seek revenge, and he'd prepared for the inevitable. By the relaxed stance of the guards, they were unprepared for him, tonight, and his team still had the element of surprise in their favor.

After a quick calculation, Oliver conveyed his plan.

"We're going to have to storm them. On my count." Oliver spoke as quietly as he could, while still making sure he would be heard. "One of those heat signatures belongs to Felicity, so be sure of who you're taking out."

Roy cleared his throat softly. "I know that we have this whole 'let's not kill if we can avoid it' team motto, and everything-"

"That doesn't apply here, kid." Diggle cut him off.

"Just checking."

Oliver took a deep breath and counted down. "3... 2... 1."

And then, all hell broke loose.

Oliver stood, and let the first arrow fly. It found its mark, sinking into the chest of the guard closest to his position. The sound of gunshots pierced the night, close by. Oliver could hear loud, angry voices, carrying up from the ground.

He nocked another arrow, drew his bowstring, and released, just as the other three guards fired their own weapons. Oliver rolled to the side, leaping back to his feet when he heard the second guard go down. One of the remaining two guards leveled his gun at him, but Oliver's reflexes were quicker. Another arrow sliced through the air, finding itself a home in the guy's throat. He went down with a gurgle, clutching at his neck in a useless attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

Oliver caught a blur of movement, as the last guard swung out with his fist. He hadn't expected him to be so close, and he caught the edge of the guy's fist on his chin. As he bent away from the blow, Oliver brought a leg up, twisting his body so the guard caught a kick to the throat. The man dropped, his hands flying to his collapsed airway.

Oliver moved quickly, sidestepping the guard as he fell to the ground.

He heard Thea's voice in his ear. "Two guards are headed your way, Ollie. The other is making a beeline for the second floor."

"I'll get him." Roy announced, having already taken out the guards at the back.

Oliver kicked in the access door, firing an arrow at the man just reaching the bottom of the stairs. The guy yelled, but collapsed a second later, air hissing from the hole that tore through his lung. Oliver braced a hand against each wall of the stairwell, and lifted his body, just missing a shot meant to take out his knee.

The light in the brewery, on this floor, was very dim, only coming in from the streetlights outside, and from the flood lights along the ceiling. Thankfully, Oliver had excellent vision, even in complete darkness. He swung his legs back, and then pushed off, sending himself through the air. His feet connected with the face of the solid man, built like Digg, at the bottom, the last guard in this part of the brewery.

The big guy wrapped his arms around Oliver's legs, swinging him, and throwing him against the wall. Oliver fell to the ground, his head throbbing. The guard cocked a leg back to deliver a blow to Oliver's ribs, but he pushed himself up, and pivoted on his hip, sweeping the guy's leg out from under him. The brick wall of a man went down, hard. Oliver sprang to his feet, nocked an arrow, and released. The arrow buried itself in the man's chest, near his heart, but it didn't keep him down. The guy was quick, lifting his legs, and flipping himself to his feet with a roar.

Oliver cursed, and swung out with his bow. He connected with his jaw, just as the guard's hand clenched around his neck. His bow clattered to the floor, when the guard lifted him by his throat, his feet leaving the ground. Oliver felt his air supply cut off, just as the twang of an arrow being released cut through the air.

The guy's eyes bulged, his fist tightening around Oliver's throat, before releasing, as he fell to the floor, dead. A red arrow stood proudly in the back of his skull.

Oliver lifted his eyes, to see Roy, who nodded, his red hood not able to hide the satisfaction written on his features.

"Digg's securing the ground." he informed Oliver, before turning on his heel and heading for the stairs.

Oliver tore off after him, overtaking him at the landing, and leaping down the stairs, not bothering to so much as touch them. He landed in a silent crouch at the base of the staircase, his head snapping up as a horrific scream ricocheted through the hallway.

Every muscle in his body locked, his lungs seizing, as icy cold fingers closed around his heart.

He knew that scream.

Roy landed beside him, raising his bow to flank his green counterpart. Oliver was already moving down the corridor, his bow raised in defense.

"What are we walking into, Thea?" His voice was quiet, but Roy heard the tremor.

"There are four signatures in the room, fifty paces ahead of you, on the west side. Two are bodies, and two are the weird ones that I mentioned before." she informed them.

"One of them is Felicity." Oliver whispered. "Digg, where are you?"

"Coming up the north stairwell." Came his gruff response. "Ground is secured."

Oliver and Roy came to a stop outside of the room Thea had indicated. Oliver pressed his back into the wall on one side of the door, while Roy stood slightly away from the wall on the other side. Oliver nodded, indicating to Roy he was ready, as another scream, the kind that tore your soul apart, echoed through the building.

Roy stepped away from the wall, bent one knee, and brought his heel up to kick in the heavy door. It exploded inward, clattering loudly against the wall, and dangling from one hinge. Oliver launched himself into the room, bow aimed at chest level. The only light in the room came from the dimly lit hallway. There were no windows in this room, or if there were, they were blacked out.

Roy came into the room, his bow raised. Oliver heard the shots before his eyes had completed a scan of the room. He and Roy dove out of the way, and the bullets buried themselves in the wall where their heads had been, just a second before.

Oliver caught a flash of movement from the direction of the gunshots, his vision adjusting to the eerie, stifling darkness. Not recognizing the shape as one of his own, he aimed, ready to release an arrow into the shadow.

He froze, his eyes narrowing against a sudden, blinding, flash of light. It illuminated the room, giving Oliver his first, washed-out, glimpse of the psychopath he had come to kill. His heart seized, as he noted the sight of The Count, with a gun pressed to a head of blonde hair. He couldn't see her face, because her head was hanging forward, her ponytail obscuring it, but he knew it was Felicity.

The light died down a little, and Oliver realized it was a flare. He could just make out the shape of Felicity's body, sitting in a chair, with The Count standing behind her. Quickly analyzing the scene, Oliver swept his eyes over the room, scanning for surprises. His gaze landed on the long metal table along the wall, and he noticed the blowtorch. His stomach clenched, as his eyes fell upon a fire poker, glowing orange, like an ember, beside it.

Oliver's blood was boiling, seething anger wrapping itself around him.

"So glad that you could join us." The Count greeted, his tone anything but pleased, as he threw the flare to the ground, between himself and the archers.

Oliver didn't speak, only lifted his bow higher, leveling it with his adversary's head. Roy mimicked his stance, his bow finding the same target.

"You have a new sidekick, I see!" The Count noted Roy's presence. "I suppose I did leave you one short. Though, that one isn't as pretty as this one."

He dragged her head back, by her hair, and Oliver could see that she was unconscious. Her head rolled back, only stopping when it rested against the man behind her.

"Beggars can't be choosers, can they, Oliver?" The Count sang. "Who would want to associate, much less work for, a failure like you? I mean, this one, right here," He emphasized his point by shaking Felicity by her hair, "is supposed to be the most important person in the world to you, and yet, you let me take her. She's been here for days, Oliver. For _days_! I know that you can't see them, but she's got plenty of scars to prove it. Of course, the ones you can see aren't nearly as bad as the ones that you can't."

Roy surged forward, his bow drawn as tightly as his fingers would allow. Oliver's arm shot out to stop his advancement, his eyes never leaving the gun pressed against Felicity's temple.

"He's got a gun to her head, Roy." Oliver reminded him, the order to stand down clear.

Roy's steps stalled, and The Count tutted cheekily from his position. "Eager one, isn't he?"

"There's only one way this ends." Oliver snarled.

"With arrows sticking out of your fucking head." Roy bit out, his jaw clenching so hard, Oliver would have sworn he heard his teeth crack.

The Count cackled, then jerked Felicity's head to one side. "None of this matters, as I'm afraid you're too late, Oliver. She's already mine." His eyes never leaving Oliver's face, he dipped his head, so that his mouth grazed the side of her neck.

Oliver saw red, rage bleeding into his vision at the implication of The Count's words, as he heard Diggle come up behind them.

Everything happened so fast, Oliver wouldn't have a chance to think about the course of events until days later.

Diggle fired a shot into the wall above The Counts head, giving Oliver an opening. The deranged madman reared back, to return fire, and Oliver launched himself across the room. He collided with The Count, tackling him to the floor. The gun went off, but Oliver didn't hear it. He reared back, and swung his fist down, connecting solidly with The Count's jaw.

Later, Oliver wouldn't be able to recall how many times he'd punched him. He wouldn't remember his knuckles stinging from where The Count's teeth dug into them. He wouldn't remember Diggle trying, and failing, to drag him away from the bloody body, or when Roy shot behind him to cut the ropes that, he would later learn, had been holding Felicity to the chair, in the center of that room. He wouldn't remember Roy pulling the IV from her arm, or putting his fingers to her throat, in search of a pulse.

No, Oliver wouldn't remember any of it.

The first thing he would remember would be the cracks and pops beneath his fingers when he broke The Count's neck.

He heard Roy shouting to him, as though he were underwater. He turned in the direction of his voice, having the distinct feeling that he was moving in slow motion, trying to hear over the suffocating heaviness in his head. Oliver's eyes fell on the limp form, crumpled and mostly naked, who was cradled in Roy's lap. His gaze was drawn to the puddle of thick, coagulating blood around the chair she'd been tied to. His stomach dropped, his own blood roaring in his ears.

"You guys need to get the hell out of there!" Thea yelled, her voice ringing through the comms. "The police are less than five minutes away."

"We're going." Diggle informed her, bending to lift Felicity.

Oliver blocked him, instead, shrugging out of his hooded jacket, and wrapping it around her. He lifted her, tucking her against his chest, and taking off for the back exit. Roy beat him to it, pushing the door open for Oliver to carry her through, and down a flight of stairs, to the waiting car. They could already hear the sirens approaching, fast. Diggle opened the door, and helped Oliver maneuver Felicity into the backseat.

Roy jumped in behind them, and in the next moment, Digg was driving them at breakneck speed toward the hospital. Normally, they would have taken her to the Foundry, but Oliver knew she needed an emergency room. Her pulse was weak and thready, her breathing shallow. He didn't think she'd survive the night if they didn't get her to an actual hospital.

Roy changed out of his red leather, and into street clothes. "Give her to me, so you can change." He held out his arms, motioning for Oliver to hand her over.

Reluctantly, Oliver shifted Felicity into his arms, before swapping out his leather, as well. Once he was dressed in jeans and a white button-up, he removed his hood from around her, swallowing hard against the bile in his throat at the sight of her so broken. Wrapping her in the suit jacket he'd brought as a change of clothes. he took her back into his lap, running a hand over her face.

She was clammy, her skin cold, but slicked with sweat. Every time the car passed under a streetlight, Oliver found a new bruise, or cut, on the patches of skin peeking out around his jacket. They passed under another light, and he discovered that most of her body was covered in blood, so much so, that he couldn't tell what the extent of her injuries were. With each light, his gut clenched, and the rage threatened to overwhelm him, again.

"I've got you, baby." he whispered to her, praying that somehow she'd hear him, and know that she was safe, know that he had her, and everything was going to be alright. "I'm right here. You're going to be okay, you just have to keep fighting. Don't give up on me, Felicity. I love you, damn it! Please, don't give up."

"How the hell are we going to explain this?" Roy unknowingly interrupted, realizing they had to come up with a story for when the police arrived at the hospital.

Which, given her condition, wouldn't take long. With the amount of blood in the that room, they'd have no trouble connecting Felicity to the scene, in any case.

"We tell them that The Arrow rescued her. He obviously couldn't bring her to the hospital himself, so he brought her to me, knowing that I'd get her medical attention." Oliver replied thickly, making it up as he went along.

"We're here." John informed them, a few minutes later, as he threw the car in park, and leapt from the driver's seat.

Roy was opening the door, before Digg made it around the car. Oliver slid across the seat, lifting Felicity as he went. He ignored the other men as they offered to take her, managing to unfold them from the backseat, himself.

In the the soft light of the darkened parking lot, he saw Roy and Diggle pale, getting their first real glimpse of the shape she was in. Without a word, Oliver was running through the doors of the hospital's emergency entrance. He was bellowing for a doctor, for anyone, to come and help her.

A nurse came out from behind the counter, yelling to another nurse to get a gurney.

"What happened?" she asked, urgently, taking in Oliver with his precious cargo, both of them covered in blood.

"She-" His voice broke, and he knew there were tears swimming in his eyes. "She needs help."

The nurse didn't press him further, instead motioning for him to deposit her onto the gurney that was being wheeled toward them. Reluctant to let her go, he hesitated, before gently laying her onto it, and watching as she was surrounded by nurses and doctors. He didn't hear what they were saying, but he could see in their faces that the situation was as dire as he'd guessed.

He was startled by a hand touching his shoulder. He tore his eyes away from the retreating swarm of scrubs and white coats, finding the nurse staring up at him.

"What's her name?" She peered up at him, her eyes soft.

"Felicity." he breathed, her name a prayer. "Felicity Smoak."

"Sir, do you need medical attention?" she inquired, glancing down at his arms, and white shirt, stained with blood.

"It's not mine." he croaked, staring down at his hands.

"Are you her next of kin?" she asked gently.

"Yes." He responded automatically, knowing that he was listed as her emergency contact in her medical file. It had been a safety precaution when they'd added each other, but he was thankful for their foresight.

The nurse nodded sympathetically, her eyes shifting to Diggle and Roy who had come up to flank him. Realizing that Oliver was in no shape to hear her clearly, she spoke to Diggle. "There's a private waiting room around the corner, where you can wait for a doctor to come and speak with him. There's a bathroom he can use to clean up, right off of it." She pointed them in the right direction.

Oliver didn't realize they had moved until he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. He saw himself, as though he were looking at a stranger. His eyes raked over his arms, and shirt, caked with red. The entire front of his body, from throat to hip, was drenched in blood.

Felicity's blood.

His eyes were wild, none of his ever present walls or shields in place. Forcing his mind to focus, he turned the faucet on, making the water as hot as he could manage.

Even that wasn't hot enough.

No water in the world would ever be hot enough to burn away the feel of her blood covering his skin. Struggling against the fear and fury warring in his chest, he managed to get a large amount of the blood off. There were still smears of it around his throat, but he didn't have the energy to keep scrubbing.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, he found Digg beside the door, arms crossed over his chest. Roy was pacing the length of the room, his cellphone pressed to his ear. Oliver made his way to a chair, against the wall, directly across from the door. Sinking into the chair, he trained his eyes on the door, willing a doctor to step through it, and tell him that Felicity was fine.

He wanted the doctor to say that none of the blood was hers, either, and she was just exhausted. He wanted to hear that she was perfectly fine, she just needed to rest, and he could see her. He knew that there was no way those were the words he'd hear, but a selfish, hopeful, delusional part of him, wanted to believe.

Without thinking about it, he dragged his arrowhead out from beneath his shirt, worrying it with his fingers.

Roy stepped into his field of vision, taking a single step back when Oliver leveled him with a dangerous glare. "Thea's on her way." He informed him. "She said that the hospital already alerted the police, and Detective Lance will be here any minute."

Oliver nodded, his eyes never leaving the door. He heard, rather than saw, Digg settle into a chair two down from his.

Ten minutes later, he saw a shadow cross in front of the door, and shot to his feet, his heart in his throat. When Lance stepped into the room, Oliver sighed with frustration, and fell back into his chair, covertly tucking the arrowhead under his collar.

"You want to explain to me what the hell is going on?" Lance demanded, as he came to a stop in front of Oliver.

"Detective." Digg stood, motioning for Lance to shift his position, so that he was no longer blocking the door. "He's waiting for the doctors, now."

Lance rolled his eyes, but stepped closer to where Digg indicated."Spill, Queen." he ordered, not even flinching when Oliver looked at him darkly, his eyes narrowing, before they slid back to the door.

Resigned, Oliver attempted a believable story. "You knew that The Arrow and Felicity were connected. Friends, even. You should have known he'd get involved when she was presumed dead."

Lance nodded, confirming that he'd, indeed, assumed as much.

"Obviously, he found her. I guess he couldn't risk his identity being found out, by bringing her here, himself, so he called me. He knows that she and I are close, and he trusted me to make sure she'd get the help she needed."

"Did he tell you anything?" Lance asked. "Where he found her? Who had her?"

"No," Oliver shook his head. "He just said he found her, and that she was alive. He told me to meet him, that she needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible."

"Where did you meet him?"

Diggle stepped in, "On the corner of Pearl and Lochlan. He gave us Felicity, and then he was gone."

Lance glanced at the bodyguard, his face giving off hints of disbelief, though he didn't voice it. His eyes slid back to Oliver, who was still staring at the closed door. "All that hers?" He motioned to the blood that covered Oliver's clothes and neck.

Oliver nodded, but didn't look up.

Just then, the door swung open, and Oliver was on his feet, his stomach clenching painfully.

"Ollie!" Thea ran to him, stopping short at the sight of him, his clothes still soaked in blood. Her eyes widened in horror, but she made herself ask, "Any news?"

"Not yet," he relayed, shaking his head.

She sat in the seat beside his, and lifted a bag. "I brought you a change of clothes. Roy said you needed them."

"Thanks." Oliver took the bag, but made no move to leave.

"Look, I've got to hang around, so I can speak with her doctor." Lance explained, his tone apologetic.

Oliver nodded his consent, though he knew it didn't matter one way, or the other.

Roy came to sit beside Thea, letting her pillow her head on his shoulder. Diggle began pacing one side of the room, careful to stay out of Oliver's line of sight to the door. Detective Lance sat in a chair in the corner, furthest away from where they were seated.

Oliver lost track of time, and everything else, as his eyes bored into the door of the waiting room, willing it to open. He blocked out his sister's sniffling, and Roy's softly spoken words of comfort. He blocked out Digg's shadow, passing by him with each of his laps around the room. He blocked out the occasional crackle of static and garbled words from Detective Lances police radio.

His vision was tunneled, only seeing the door.

He found himself making promises to no one, vowing things he never thought he'd vow. He swore if the universe let Felicity come back to him, he'd never let her go again. He promised that if she could just wake up, he would spend everyday, of the rest of his life, showing her how much he loved her. He vowed that he would stop hiding behind his own fears, stop finding reasons to keep her just out of reach, and finally let himself love her the way she deserved.

Thinking that she was dead, was the worst feeling Oliver had ever encountered. Thinking that she was gone, that he had lost her forever, had been the single most devastating blow ever delivered. He'd felt like part of him had died, right along with her. His heart had continued beating, but it served no other purpose. He had never felt more broken, in his life, than he had when he'd thought it was Felicity laying on that slab in the morgue.

More than an hour later, Oliver caught the shadow pass the door, a second before it moved inward. He was on his feet, and frozen in place, as soon as his brain registered the white coat.

The doctor glanced around the room, her brown eyes finding the one amongst them who was covered in blood. "I'm Dr. Blanchard," The petite woman introduced herself, making her way toward Oliver. "I'm the resident surgeon here. Are you here for Miss Smoak?"

He took her offered hand, shaking it limply. He was too afraid of why Felicity might need a surgeon, to muster the strength to do it properly.

"Yes." he confirmed, fear making his voice shake."I'm Oliver Queen."

Dr. Blanchard clearly knew the name, her face registering her recognition.

"I have authorization to release medical information to you." she informed him, purposefully letting her eyes slide over the rest of the people in the room.

"They're family." Oliver assured her."Can I see her?" He asked the first question that popped into his head.

"Unfortunately, no." The doctor began, Oliver hanging onto her every word. "She's being prepped for emergency surgery. She suffered a great deal of blunt force trauma to her abdomen, which resulted in internal bleeding. Her left cheekbone is fractured, but not broken. It'll heal on its own, over time. There's a fair amount of swelling on her brain, but we're confident that will take care of itself, without assistance from us. She has multiple lacerations, and contusions, many of which require sutures. There are also a few burns, that need to be seen to, but they'll have to wait until after surgery."

Oliver felt the room around him tilt, precariously. He was steadied by Thea, slipping her arm through his, and taking some of his weight.

"Will she-" His voice broke, and he had to take a deep breath before he could continue. "She's going to be okay, though. She'll be okay."

Dr. Blanchard's eyes softened, "We're going to do everything that we can, Mr. Queen. She's in critical condition, but we're hopeful. The next twelve hours are going to be the deciding factor. Go home, get some rest. We'll call you if anything changes."

"Dr. Blanchard?" Oliver called, as she made to leave. He walked to where she stood, lowering his head to speak without being overheard. He had to swallow several times to clear away the knot in his throat before he could ask the question he was terrified to hear the answer to. "I'm assuming a pelvic exam was administered?"

The doctor's face conveyed her sympathy, hearing the plea behind his words."There are no signs of sexual assault, Mr. Queen." she assured him.

Oliver released the breath he hadn't known he was holding, as relief washed through him. "Thank you." He wasn't sure if he was talking to Dr. Blanchard, or the universe in general.

With an understanding smile, the doctor turned, and nodded to Detective Lance, who followed her from the room.

"She's right, Oliver." Diggle said, squeezing Oliver's shoulder. "Go home. Take a shower, and get a change of clothes. I'd tell you to sleep, but we both know that's never going to happen."

"I can't leave." he argued. "I can't leave her here, alone."

"I'll stay with her. I'll call in extra bodies if it makes you feel better." John promised.

"No." Oliver squared his shoulders, and spoke with finality. "I've got the clothes Thea brought, that's good enough for now."

Diggle watched, feeling helpless, as Oliver shut himself in the small bathroom. He'd never seen that look on his friend's face, not in all the years he'd known him. Oliver was always careful to keep his emotions concealed, never wanting people to see what was really going on inside him. But, now, he looked defeated. When Dr. Blanchard was listing off Felicity's injuries, Oliver had looked like a little boy, his eyes wide with fear, glistening with the moisture, Digg knew, he'd hate being seen.

Oliver emerged from the bathroom, free of blood, in a dark blue, cable-knit sweater, and khakis. He looked marginally less uncomfortable, but the shadow of Felicity's condition still clung to him, like a cloak.

Oliver felt all six eyes in the room follow him as he sank back into the chair he'd been occupying. He knew they were trying to be supportive, that they just wanted to be there for him, but he was beginning to feel suffocated. His fear for Felicity was strangling him, as it was, and the constant feel of eyes on him made him feel like he was a caged animal.

Blocking out the rest of the room, he let his head fall back against the wall, and his eyes droop closed. Crossing his arms over his chest, and legs at the ankles, he took deep breaths, trying to remind himself that Felicity was alive. He tried to let himself feel relief that she was still among the living, her heart was still beating. He tried to convince himself that she was going to pull through this, and come back to him. In theory, all of those things were true. Letting himself believe them, however, was an entirely different matter.

He could feel the crash coming, the one that always came after the adrenaline wore off. Tonight, his adrenaline had shot through the roof. His body had vibrated with it, every nerve buzzing with the intensity of its onset.

And then, he'd seen her.

He'd seen her, tied to that chair, her head hanging limply, her body pushed past the point of breaking, and a gun to her temple He knew how that felt, and the knowledge that she had experienced it, made his skin crawl. The idea of her being tortured, at the hands of a man that Oliver had thought he'd killed, made fury bubble in his chest, and guilt snake around his heart.

He'd been tortured, on more than one occasion. He was familiar with the damage it could do to ones psyche. He was well acquainted with toll it took on your soul, with the darkness it marked you with. He didn't know how bad her physical scars would be, but he feared the psychological ones much more. He'd been off the island for almost eight years, and he still woke up, from time to time, covered in sweat, in the grips of reliving his trauma in the form of night terrors.

Of all the things he wanted for his tiny blonde hurricane, that was not something he'd wished for. Now, he wanted nothing more than to take it all away.

The only relief he found came from the knowledge that, this time, The Count was dead. Really, and truly, dead. Oliver had snapped his neck, and felt the life drain out of him. He didn't know how he'd survived three arrows to the chest, and a fall from twenty-odd floors up, but he knew that this time, there was no coming back. There was no third chance, no resurrection, no last minute save.

Count Vertigo was irrevocably, irreversibly, undoubtedly, _dead_.


	10. We Fight, Together

**Author's note: Hi, guys and gals! You're response to the last chapter was _AMAZING_. I have never been so overwhelmed by reading reviews! I can't thank you enough. **

**This chapter is a _bit_ lighter, though there are some major Olicity feels, and maybe a few tears. I thought you deserved a break lol **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She felt strange. She couldn't feel her body, couldn't make it do what she wanted it to. She was blissfully warm, and kind of felt like she was floating.

Like, that funny feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster, and the car tips over the edge of a huge drop, and you just feel... _weightless_?

Felicity felt weightless. There wasn't anything anchoring her to anything, or keeping her anywhere. She was just a thought, an idea, a whisper on the wind. She tried to think, to figure out where she was... or more accurately, wasn't.

She pushed herself to try and dredge up her last memory. What was the very last thing she could remember?

Oliver? She'd heard his voice, hadn't she? She'd heard him telling her to fight, to not give up on him.

He'd said he loved her.

That thought made her feel tingly. Tingly was good, right? Tingly and weightless couldn't be bad, could they?

She tried to open her eyes, but found that she couldn't feel those either. It should have frightened her, not being able to feel herself. She should have been scared, or at least mildly perturbed.

She wasn't.

She felt safe, wherever she was. She felt warm, and content, just kind of existing in this floaty little place. She knew that nothing could hurt her here. Nothing could touch her, because she wasn't anything to be touched. She was nothing more than air, here, and you can't hurt air.

There was a shift, a stirring in the atmosphere around her. It wasn't unpleasant, by any means. It was like a breeze, swirling and dancing with her. She wasn't sure if she felt it, or if she just knew it was there. It was warmer than the air around her had been the moment before. There was something familiar about it, something comforting.

It flowed through her, lighting her up from the inside out. It wrapped around her, fusing with the essence that made her who, or what, she was. The tingling she'd felt before intensified, until every particle of her being was charged with static electricity. The stirring turned into a pulsing, a steady thrum that reminded her of a heartbeat.

Was that her heartbeat? Did she have a heart, here, in this floaty in-between place?

Yes, that was definitely a heartbeat.

She focused on it, trying to hear it better. It seemed like it was getting closer, she could clearly count the beats now.

There was something else...

A voice, maybe? It was a deep sound, almost a rumbling. It vibrated through her, throbbing in her veins in the most delicious way. She felt it all the way down in her toes.

Wait... TOES! She had toes now!

She tried to wiggle her newly rediscovered toes, but they wouldn't do as they were told. She did succeed in finding her legs, though, so it wasn't a total waste.

Refocusing her efforts, she tried flexing her fingers.

Oh! She had fingers, here, too! They didn't cooperate, but at least she knew they were there.

There was that rumbling, again...

It called to a part of her, a part deep inside her soul, that felt like it was trying to call back. The sound echoed through her head, reminding her that she did, in fact, have a head.

Now that she had eyes, again, she tried to open them. She thought maybe they fluttered a little bit, but she remained sightless.

"_Felicity?" _The deep, rumble-y sound was most assuredly a voice, and it was saying her name, from somewhere very far away.

She tried to make her lips move (Hey! She had lips, now too!), to answer the call, but she couldn't get them to do as she bid.

She felt her fingers move, and thought she'd done it, but then something large, and warm was enveloping her hand and she knew she hadn't.

Someone was tenderly squeezing her hand.

Trying to squeeze back, she thought she might have made her fingers twitch.

"_Felicity, can you hear me?"_

"Yes!" she tried to shout, frustrated when the response only careened around her own head.

"_Listen, if you can hear me, don't try to talk. Save your strength, okay? I'll be right here, when you're ready to wake up. I'm not going anywhere."_

Oliver. That deep, rumbling, soul throbbing voice, belonged to Oliver.

The deepest sense of relief washed over her, making her eyes water beneath closed lids. She'd never, in her life, been so happy to hear his voice. She knew there were tears falling, she could feel them as they trickled down her face, into her ears.

"_Don't cry. Please, don't cry." _The crack and quaver in his voice made her heart swell with emotion. _"You're safe, I promise. So, just... rest. For as long as you need... And then, open those beautiful blue eyes, and come back to me."_

Rest. She could do that.

* * *

Oliver felt himself relax, slightly, when he felt Felicity drift back into unconsciousness.

He'd been talking to her for seven straight days, about everything, and anything, he could think of. Her doctor, a middle-aged man named Dr. Tenner, had told him that talking to her might help. Coma patients sometimes responded well to stimulus, especially if it came from a voice they recognized.

So, Oliver had talked. He'd sat in the same chair, right beside her bed, for those seven days, spilling his guts. He told her about the island, about the things he'd done that he'd been too ashamed to admit when she was awake. He told her about the times he'd thought he was going to lose a fight, and how all he'd been able to think about was her. He told her about the conversation he'd had with his mother, the day she'd admitted that she knew he was The Arrow, and how he'd decided to stop waiting for their life to begin.

He read to her from her favorite series, Harry Potter, hoping that the familiar story would draw her back to him. He held her hand, caressing the tender skin, careful not to jostle the needle from the IV. He told her how much he loved her, and how strong he knew she was. He let her know how proud he was of her, for fighting to stay with him.

He apologized when he had to leave her, every other day, to go home and shower, though he knew she'd forgive him. Going to shower was the only time he left her side. He'd even managed to convince the nurses to let him stay in the room when they bathed her, as long as he promised to keep his back turned. He didn't go to the mansion, to shower, instead going to her apartment, because it was closer to the hospital.

Digg had brought a few changes of clothes, and he stayed with Felicity while Oliver wasn't there.

And, Digg talked to her.

Oliver didn't know what he said, but he could see the evidence of tears on his friend's face sometimes, when he returned from Felicity's apartment. He was never gone long, about an hour each time, but he knew that Digg would protect her with his life, in his absence.

Oliver had known the moment she'd been able to hear his voice. Her eyelashes had fluttered against the slowly fading bruises on her cheeks. He'd clasped her hand tighter in his, squeezing her fingers to let her know he was there.

"Felicity?" He'd known she couldn't answer, but he wanted to see her try.

Her fingers had twitched in his palm, sending a flood of warmth through his chest.

"Felicity, can you hear me?" He hadn't even tried to hide the elation he felt.

But, then, he'd seen the tears track down her face, and his heart broke, all over again. He couldn't have stopped the way his voice shook, or the tears that swam in his eyes, even if he'd tried.

"Don't cry. Please, don't cry." He'd begged, wanting desperately to take away her pain. "You're safe, I promise. So, just... rest. For as long as you need... And then, open those beautiful blue eyes, and come back to me."

When he felt her relax, he held her hand to his lips, and let his own tears fall.

A week was a long time to wait, to see the eyes of the woman you loved. When you'd thought she was dead, gone forever, seven days felt like an eternity.

Oliver laid his head down on the bed beside her, resting her open palm on the side of his face, beneath the hood of his sweatshirt. Closing his eyes, he tried to make himself rest. Here, with her, was the only time he actually managed to sleep. He wanted to be the first face she saw when she finally opened her eyes.

So, he breathed in the scent of her skin, letting it settle deep in his lungs, and willed himself to sleep.

* * *

Felicity let her eyes blink open, slowly.

She stared at the white expanse above her, wondering when she'd installed a drop ceiling in her bedroom. Her eyebrows knit together, in utter confusion, and she made to sit up to shake the fog of sleep from her brain.

As she went to lift herself up, a myriad of sharp pains shot through her, knocking the breath from her lungs, forcing her to go limp against the mattress. With a rush of clarity, her whole ordeal came rushing back to her. Flashes of memory played in her mind's eye, and an anguished whimper escaped her lips.

Oliver shot awake, standing over her, putting himself in her field of vision. "Felicity?" His hand came up to touch her cheek gently.

His eyes flashed with hurt when she recoiled from his touch, but he pulled the hand back, gripping the rail of her bed, instead.

"Oliver?" she gasped roughly, recognition dawning on her face.

"Hey... shh shh shh." he murmured, his eyes the softest she'd ever seen. "I'm right here. You're safe."

"Where are we?" she choked.

Oliver turned away, quickly turning back with a plastic tumbler of water. He held a straw to her lips, letting her quench her parched throat.

"We're in the hospital." he explained gingerly, while she sipped.

"Oh my God..." she moaned, turning her face away from him. She didn't want him to see the plethora of emotions she knew would be sweeping over her face. She didn't want him to witness the way she crumbled, every ounce of strength leaving her body. She didn't want to feel his eyes on her when the tears scorched down her cheeks.

"Hey..." He ran his thumb delicately over her knuckles. "We don't have to talk about it, right now, okay? You don't have to say anything, at all, but please, Felicity... Please, look at me. I've been waiting so long for you to open your eyes. Don't shut me out."

She heard the desperation in his voice, and slammed her eyes closed.

He waited, with bated breath.

Reluctantly, she slowly turned her head, facing him again. Her eyes opened carefully, and met his.

He smiled at her, adoringly, making her chest ache.

"Oliver." she whimpered, every other word escaping her.

He asked a silent question with his eyes, and she nodded her consent.

He slipped an arm under her knees, and the other under her shoulders, careful to avoid the wounds he knew were there. Lifting her a fraction of an inch off the mattress, he pulled her toward the side of the bed he was standing on. He set her down as cautiously as he could, before making his way around to the other side. Toeing off his shoes, he let them fall to the floor, and then tucked himself around her.

She was flat on her back, so he leaned up on one elbow, looking down at her with his head resting in his palm, letting his other hand rest on her abdomen, once again conscious of where her injuries were. Felicity lifted the hand with the IV in it, settling it over his, where it lay. She felt her heart flutter a little when he tangled his feet with hers.

They were quiet for a while, before she worked up the nerve to ask the questions she needed answers to. "How long have I been here?" she whispered.

"A week and three days." he informed her, his tone as quiet as hers.

She didn't react, simply accepting his response, and filing it away. She felt numb, really, like she was detached from her body. "How bad was it?"

She heard him swallow, hard, before he answered. "Bad."

"Is he..."

"Yes." Oliver assured her, his thumb smoothing circles over her belly.

"You're sure?" She hated to doubt him, but they'd been wrong before.

"Positive." His voice a little harder than it had been, but still a whisper.

She nodded, and she knew he'd been the one to do it. She wanted to apologize, again, for being the one he'd had to kill for, but she held her tongue. She'd learned, a long time ago, that she was the exception to that rule. When it came down to her life, or upholding his vow, he'd break it. Every time, and without hesitation.

She turned her head, slightly, so that she could meet his gaze. He was looking at her intensely, with so many emotions swirling in his eyes that she could do nothing but stare back. For the life of her, she couldn't think of a single word to say. The girl who excelled at babbling and, in that moment, she couldn't make a sound.

"Get some sleep." He broke the silence.

"Oliver, I've been asleep long enough, don't you think? Can't we just go home?" she argued softly.

"It's the middle of the night, Felicity. We won't get to speak with Dr. Tenner until the morning, and I doubt he's going to discharge you right away." he reasoned.

"I don't think I _can_ sleep, to be honest." She was being stubborn, and she knew it, but she didn't care.

"Try." he insisted, pillowing his head on his arm, beside her. "I'll be right here, the whole time."

Relenting, she shifted her head so that she could feel the heat of his breath against her neck. It was comforting, having him so close. It gave her something to focus on, as she tried to sync her breathing with his. He steadily rubbed circles into the same spot on her stomach, and she felt herself begin to relax.

Before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

Oliver laid awake, a while longer, listening to the silence of the room, only interrupted by the occasional beep of the machines she was hooked to. He knew that the sense of peace wouldn't last. There would be police interviews, where she'd have to relive her nightmare. There would be the media interest, more demanding now that she was awake. Then, of course, there'd be the steady parade of friends, and family, wanting to see her, to know that she was alright.

Oliver had tried to keep the story under wraps, but with a police investigation, that had proven easier said, than done. Thankfully, he'd reached her parents before they'd heard about it from elsewhere. They were awaiting word that she was awake, ready to drive the six hours from their hometown to Starling. He made a mental note to call them, first thing in the morning.

The knowledge that she was finally awake, that she had come back to him, made the worst of his tension seep out of his muscles. Laying in the narrow hospital bed, with her sleeping safely in his embrace, he took the first easy breath he'd taken since he'd gotten Detective Lance's phone call.

Closing his eyes against the memory, Oliver pressed his nose gently to the side of Felicity's throat, one of the only stretches of skin that wasn't marred by bruises or healing wounds.

He stayed that way, eventually falling asleep, counting her heartbeats, as her pulse thrummed evenly against his skin.

* * *

The next morning, Oliver was jolted awake by the sound of the hospital room door creaking open. He was careful not to jostle Felicity as he slipped out of the bed, to step around the curtain.

"Good morning, Mr. Queen." Greeted the nurse, the one who'd been there the night Felicity was admitted.

Oliver had since learned that her name was Evelyn. He felt a certain fondness for her, since she'd been the one to step in, and take control when he'd stood helplessly with Felicity in his arms.

"It is today." He smiled, drawing the curtain back to reveal the still sleeping blonde.

Evelyn's eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked from Felicity's peaceful form, to Oliver's grinning face. "When did she wake up?" she asked, speaking quietly as she stepped around the bed to check the machines.

"Late last night. Around 3, I think." he informed her, watching her as she read the print outs.

Evelyn nodded, jotting the notation down in the chart hanging from the end of the bed. She raised her eyes to Oliver's, and smiled apologetically. "I'm going to have to wake her up, to check her cognitive responses, and have a look at her wounds. We need to get an idea of where she's at in her recovery." she explained.

Oliver nodded his understanding, and moved to grasp Felicity's hand. He gently lifted her fingers to his lips, kissing her knuckles delicately.

"Felicity." he called softly, not wanting to startle her.

Her eyes slid open, and her gaze found his. She smiled, grimacing when pain shot through her cheekbone.

"This is Evelyn." He motioned to the nurse across from him. "She's been your nurse since the night I brought you in."

Felicity blinked up at the woman's kind brown eyes.

"She's going to look you over, okay?" Oliver asked, wanting her to be as comfortable with the process as she could be.

Felicity looked back to Oliver's face, her eyes imploring. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"Absolutely not." he promised. "I'll be right behind that curtain. I have a few calls to make, but I'll be right there."

Felicity nodded, feeling bereft when he released her hand, after touching another kiss to it. She watched him step around the curtain, before turning her attention to her nurse.

Oliver started his calls with Digg, wanting him to know Felicity was awake. The relief in Digg's voice was palpable. Oliver heard him pass the news on to Lyla, who promptly began to cry.

"She's a little sensitive." John explained, and Oliver had to smile at the loving way his friend said it.

"Can you guys go to the apartment and grab a few changes of clothes for her? I know she's going to want to change out of her hospital gown, as soon as she can. Oh, and call Thea? You can probably catch her before she leaves for work."

"Sure, man, no problem. We'll be there in about an hour." John disconnected.

Oliver's next phone call was the most important. He dialed Felicity's father, and held his breath.

"Oliver?" David Smoak answered after one ring.

"Mr. Smoak. She's awake." Oliver couldn't help the way his voice broke.

"We're on our way."

Oliver had to stop, and take a moment to steady himself, after he hung up. The emotion in her father's voice had taken his breath away.

Regaining his composure, Oliver dialed his mother's number. She answered almost immediately.

"She's awake." he breathed, knowing that his mother would understand the tremor in his voice.

"Oh, Oliver, I'm so glad to hear it. How is she?" Moira asked.

"The nurse is looking her over now, but she seems okay, considering."

"Good. You'll let me know when she's discharged? I assume you'll be bringing her here."

Oliver felt himself grin at how well his mother knew him. "Yes, I'll be bringing her home. Once I speak with Dr. Tenner, I'll let you know."

Saying his goodbyes, Oliver slipped his phone back into his pocket.

He approached the drawn curtain, and called out, "Can I come back in?" He heard a soft sniffle, a sound he knew well, and was around the flimsy barrier before anyone had answered his question. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting beside Felicity on the bed, and entwining his fingers with hers.

She raised her watery eyes to his, her bottom lip trembling. She lifted the hand on her other side to wipe away a trail of moisture from her cheek, flinching from the pressure on her healing cheekbone.

"I got a little overwhelmed." she admitted. "I knew what... I knew there were going to be scars, things that would take time to heal. This is the first time I've actually seen some of what he did to me. I haven't even seen my face yet, but judging by how much it hurts, I'm going to assume that it's an array of unpleasant colors."

Oliver's mind flashed back to the moment he'd seen her in Roy's lap, covered in her own blood. Then, it flashed to her, laying unconscious in the hospital bed, after she'd come out of surgery. He'd gone over every inch of her, every patch of skin, taking inventory of her injuries. With every discovery, he had felt pieces of his soul ache, and the desire to snap The Count's neck, again and again, flared deep within him.

"I know it's a lot to absorb, all at once." he told her gently. "We'll deal with it. All of it... One day at a time. The important thing is that you're here, and you're going to heal."

"What if I don't?" she asked earnestly. "What if I can't?"

Oliver raised a hand, moving it slowly toward her face, giving her the chance to deny him. When she didn't finch away, he cupped the side of her neck in his palm, letting his thumb ghost over her jaw.

"I'll help you." he vowed. "There's nothing we can't get through, as long as we fight together, remember?"

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She let his words sink in, an echo of the words she'd spoken when she'd given him his arrowhead. She drew strength from him, from his caress.

Sensing her calming, Oliver turned to Evelyn. "When can I take her home?"

She smiled affectionately at them. "As soon as Dr. Tenner signs her release. Everything seems to be healing properly, and there doesn't seem to be any lasting damage to her brain function. He'll want to run a few scans, to be sure, but I'd say that you should be able to take her home by Friday." She left them, then, to finish her rounds, promising to send Dr. Tenner up, the minute she saw him.

"Digg and Lyla are coming." Oliver informed her, taking one of her hands in both of his. "And, I spoke with your father. He and your mother are coming in."

Felicity's eyes widened. "You called my parents?"

"I had to, Felicity." he reminded her. "What happened was all over the news. I thought it better that they hear it from me, than to find out that way."

"They must be freaking out." She sighed, laying her head against the raised back of her bed.

"I think they're just glad that you're awake."

Felicity closed her eyes, and a flash of memory struck her. Not a visual, just words. Words of comfort, and the feeling of warm legs against her back.

"Roy." she whispered, raising her head.

A look of confusion crossed Oliver's face.

"Roy was there. In that room..." she struggled, trying to pull the memory to the surface. "He told me to hold on, that you were coming."

He was temporarily distracted by the thought. If she'd heard Roy speaking to her in the brewery, had she heard him in the backseat of the car, on the way to the hospital? Had she heard every word he'd been desperate for her to finally hear? Had she heard all the things he'd told her, while he was begging her to wake up?

"Roy, John, and I, were there." Oliver eventually confirmed.

"Will you tell me what happened?" She needed to know.

"Are you sure this is something you want to talk about, right now?" he asked, gently.

"I need to know what happened, Oliver. Now is as good a time as any."

So, he told her. He started from the beginning, with the phone call from Lance. He glossed over the entirety of his trip to the morgue, deciding that was a box best left closed for the time being. He explained about finding the signal jamming device at her apartment, and calling Thea and Roy home from Gotham. He told her how Roy had been the one to find out where she was (ignoring her grin of pride). He told her how they'd managed to infiltrate the brewery, and wipe out The Count's team of guards.

When he started to explain the actual rescue, about The Count having a gun to her head and how she'd been tied to the chair, in the center of that room, his words failed him. He couldn't force himself to relive that particular memory, in any great detail.

"You saved me." she murmured, stroking her thumb over the pulse point in his wrist. "I knew that you would come for me."

"I'll always come for you, Felicity." Oliver said, his words gentle, but impassioned.

"I know." She smiled softly.

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the skin on skin contact as her thumb traced a triangle pattern into the thin skin over his pulse.

It was Felicity who broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?" she asked, cautiously.

"When has me saying no ever stopped you?" he pointed out, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Fair point." she conceded, easily. She inhaled deeply, before blowing it out, and then ventured her thoughts. "I just was wondering... He said that you weren't looking for me, that you thought I was dead."

Oliver's face darkened, but he didn't respond.

"He told me that he gave the cops a body, and that they thought it was me." she continued. "How did you know I was still alive?"

He was silent, for a beat too long, reliving the hell of his visit to the morgue.

Eyes shining with unshed tears, he met her gaze, resolutely. Telling her the truth was the only option, he knew. It had been that way between them for the better part of seven years.

"When Lance said that they had to assume it was you, I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe that you were gone." He took a deep, steadying breath. "So, I went to the morgue. I thought that the only way I'd believe you were gone, was if I saw for myself. There was a body... And, she matched your description. They said that it was you... But, I saw it... I saw _her_, and I didn't feel it."

"Feel what?" she prompted, her own eyes brimming with moisture.

"You." He looked away from her. "I didn't feel you. There's something there, when I'm near you. There's a connection... a knowing. And, it wasn't there. I thought that if I saw you, I'd feel the loss, you know? But, I was just hollow... And then, I noticed the ear."

Felicity's brow drew together quizzically, confusion splashed across her features. He had to grin a little at the expression.

"There was no hardware in her ear. I know, for a fact, that the only time you take out your industrial is to clean it, or swap it."

She stared at him, her mouth falling open in surprise.

"Then, I knew." Oliver met her eyes. "I knew that it wasn't you, laying there. I knew, with everything I am, that you were still out there, that you were counting on me to find you."

Felicity smiled at him, wetly. "It's a good thing you know me so well."

A sudden knock at the door got their attention, before Digg and Lyla stepped into the room. Lyla made a beeline for Felicity, wrapping her arms carefully around her shoulders, tears slipping down her cheeks. Diggle came to stand beside the bed, trading places with his wife when she finally released a sniffling Felicity.

"We brought you clothes and your extra glasses. Oh, and coffee!" Lyla informed her, swiping fingers under her eyes.

"Oh, thank God!" Felicity moaned, drawing laughter from everyone.

She held out her hands, in a "gimme" gesture. Diggle grinned, supplying her with her caffeine fix. She raised it to her nose first, inhaling deeply, before sipping the hot deliciousness.

"You spoil me." She lifted warm eyes to Diggle's.

"Nothing but the best for our girl." he told her, and the sincerity in his eyes made her smile just a little brighter.

Digg and Lya settled into chairs, beside Felicity's bed. Oliver didn't say much, as the three of them talked. He was just glad to see Felicity smile, to see her finding a bit of herself, again.

When she slipped her hand into his palm, linking her fingers through his, Oliver heard the unspoken words more clearly that if she'd shouted them in his ear.


	11. Proof, In The Flesh

**Author's note: Get ready for some feels, my darlings! Feels, both good and bad, abound in this chapter. Please, don't forget to review. They seriously make my day!**

* * *

Wednesday night found Felicity miserable, pouting angrily in her hospital bed, arms crossed over her chest in a show of impatience.

"You're adorable when you pout, you realize that, right?" Oliver raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Do you realize how long it's been since I've had a proper shower?" She demanded. "Too. Fucking. Long."

"Felicity!" Oliver laughed out loud, feigning shock.

Felicity cursing was one of his favorite things, in the entire world. She did it so rarely, and only when she was well and truly angry, or frustrated. Any time a vulgarity fell from her lips, Oliver found himself amused, and more than a little aroused. He'd never admit it to her, but seeing his tiny blonde hurricane reach Category 5 status, was a complete turn on. She was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, and he loved seeing her in action.

"Dr. Tenner will be here any minute. If he says it's okay, I'll stop arguing."

"I don't give a rat's ass whether it's okay or not. One way, or another, I'm getting in that shower, tonight." she promised, her tone determined.

Not five minutes later, Dr. Tenner entered the room, having no idea what he was walking into. "Miss Smoak." he greeted, picking up her chart. "How are you feeling?"

"Pissed." she deadpanned.

"She wants to take a shower." Oliver informed him, trying not chuckle.

Dr. Tenner read over her chart, humming to himself. The longer he read, the more agitated Felicity became.

Finally, he looked up from the metal clipboard, and nodded to Oliver. "A shower is fine. Does she need a nurse to assist?"

"_She,_" Felicity growled, "is right here! And, no, she does not need a nurse. She is more than capable of showering without someone's help!"

Shaking his head, Oliver scrubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin. If he laughed at her, while she was angry, it would only serve to piss her off more. And, while that was something he, himself, would enjoy, he didn't want her to put added stress on her body.

"Well, if you're sure, then I have no objections. Just be gentle where there are still sutures, and let your nurse know when you're done, so he can redo your bandages." Dr. Tenner said, ignoring the way Oliver's jaw tensed, and then added, "Also, if you think that you're ready, and you have someone who can help you, I'd be willing to release you in the morning."

Felicity blinked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Really? I can go home?"

"You'll have to keep your activity light, but yes, I think going home is well within the realm of reason."

Felicity turned to Oliver, and stuck her tongue out, petulantly.

"Thank you, Doctor." Oliver shook the older man's, and then he was gone.

When Oliver turned back to Felicity, she was already struggling to push herself from the bed, her feet dangling nearly twelve inches from the floor. They'd removed the IV's and electrodes the morning before, leaving her with only the heart monitor sensor on her finger, which she left dangling over the side of her bed.

"Hey." He moved toward her, as she slid further out of the bed. "Take it easy."

"I'm fine, Oliver." She told him, though she winced when she put weight on her right leg.

He ignored her protests, and bent to slip her arm around his shoulders, taking her weight, so she didn't have to support it on her own. He helped her limp toward the bathroom, where he leaned her against the vanity. He turned the water on in the small shower stall, letting the hot water fill the room with steam.

"Can you untie my gown?" Felicity asked, turning her back and offering the knots to him.

He untied each one, letting her gown fall open inch by inch. He swallowed against the expletive he wanted to utter, at the sight of all the bandages covering her back. He knew they were there, but seeing them, even for the second time, drew the anger to the surface.

"You have to take the bandages off, too." he reminded her, his voice tight. "I can do the ones back here, if you want."

Felicity didn't speak, opting to nod instead. She was busy carefully avoiding seeing her reflection, and was grateful that the mirror was quickly fogging over.

One at a time, Oliver removed three white bandages from her shoulders, the middle of her back, and the area right above her panty line, where he knew she wouldn't be able to reach, revealing a total of nine larger wounds, as well as several smaller ones. Before she asked, Oliver knelt behind her, unwinding the gauze around her ankles, that covered the rope burns where she'd been bound.

"Okay, that's it for back here." he informed her through clenched teeth, standing to toss the ball of gauze and tape into the trash can. "You've got the rest?"

"Yeah, I can get them. Thanks." She was avoiding his eyes, and he didn't like it, but he wouldn't push her.

"Alright." He nodded, leaning into the shower to adjust the water temperature. "I'll be right outside, so yell if you need anything."

She watched him slip out, leaving the door open a crack, as he went. She knew he didn't stray too far from the bathroom, catching the shadow of his feet move back and forth beneath the door as he paced outside. The sight of light spilling in, under the door, brought a memory to the forefront of her mind, making Felicity shudder.

Shaking it off, she shrugged out of her gown, letting it slip off her shoulders and pool around her feet, and pushing her panties down to meet it.

Steeling herself, she squared her shoulders, and got to work removing the rest of her bandages. She started with the one around her right thigh. Aside from the burns on her pelvis, and the stab wound beneath the burn on the right, the gash on the inside of her right thigh had been one of the deepest injuries. The stitches were still in place, the skin around them red, and puckering angrily. As she looked at the wound, she recalled the pain of it being inflicted. She could practically feel the knife slicing through her flesh, at that moment.

She made her shaking hands move, to lift the bandages at her hipbones, covering the twin burns on each side. Her stomach rolled, and she had to close her eyes, to block out the sight. Bracing herself, she moved on to the next, and lifted the tape holding the bandage over the right side of her torso, from under her breast to the middle of her belly, revealing three long, partially healed, wounds that followed the curve of her ribs. The two in the center were the deepest, sutures still holding them closed.. The skin was partially knit back together, though there were a few patches that remained open. The other two were mostly healed, much to her relief. Just below those marks were three smaller incisions, left behind from the emergency surgery to stop the internal bleeding. Those were mostly healed, as well.

With each bandage she lifted, Felicity relived the injury's creation. She experienced the memory like it was playing out in real time, her heart pounding in her chest. Forcing herself to continue, she moved to the bandages covering the left half of her chest. There were two wounds beneath them, in different stages of healing. The first was in the delicate skin of the swell of her breast. It was almost healed, the stitches had already been taken out. Felicity could count the holes where the sutures had been, as her eyes traced the scar tissue still red and raw.

The second was in the valley between her breasts, directly over her heart. It was a little more than four inches long, and deeper than the other, its sutures still firmly in place. That was the wound that kept her awake at night. That was the one that she couldn't stop reliving, even when she couldn't see it.

She gave herself a mental slap, before she unwound the gauze covering her wrists, the way Oliver had done at her ankles. The skin was still shredded, rope burns imbedded deeply in the soft flesh.

Wiping the pile of cotton and tape off the counter, and into the garbage can, she released a breath in a violent burst of air. She limped to the shower, testing the water with her hand. Oliver had been conscious of her wounds, and newly healed skin, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable warmth.

She stepped under the spray, wincing when the water stung her injuries. Air hissed between her teeth, but she made herself stay still. She had to lean against the cold tile, to steady herself, as flashes of memory assuaged her. Her hands balled into fists, her nails biting into her skin, as she struggled to regain her calm. She took a deep breath, to recenter herself, and then pushed away from the wall.

She made herself pour shampoo into her palm, then lather it into her strands. She leaned back, letting the water rinse the suds down her back. The marks on her skin burned when the shampoo hit them, but she fought to ignore it. She repeated the process, lathering her hair, and rinsing once more, before she put conditioner in. She massaged it into her scalp, moaning softly at the sensation. It felt good, gentle fingers kneading into her roots, after having it forcefully yanked, repeatedly.

She forwent the use of a shower puff, not wanting to catch her stitches on its mesh. Instead, she poured body wash into her palm, and used her hands to cleanse her skin with the suds. She used the side of her hand as a guide, making sure to avoid getting too close to the wounds that were still partially open.

She stood under the warm cascade of water, letting it wash over her, and enjoying the way the heat pulled some of the aches out of her muscles.

"Felicity?" Oliver called, his tone worried.

"I'm almost done." she responded, taking another moment to revel in the peace of the tiny shower stall.

She hadn't been alone since before she'd been taken, and she was glad to have the time to herself. Having Oliver by her side was wonderful, but she was enjoying the absolute seclusion afforded to her by the shower.

Reluctantly, she shut the water off, and reached for a towel. She patted her face dry, careful to avoid the still sensitive edge of her cheekbone. She wrapped the towel around her hair, winding it back and tucking the end to secure it. As she reached for the second towel, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and her hand flew to her mouth, as she saw herself for the first time. She'd been diligent about avoiding seeing her reflection. She hadn't wanted to see the damage The Count had inflicted, hadn't wanted to see the proof on her skin. The lower water temperature, and Oliver leaving the door cracked, had allowed the fog to dissipate, the mirror clearly reflecting her image back to her.

"Oh my God..." she breathed, her eyes raking over her naked body.

For the first time, she saw the full extent of her injuries. She lifted a shaking hand to her cheek, her fingers brushing over the swollen skin. She'd expected it to be bruised, but the sickly yellow and purple bruise that extended from her eye to her jaw had her stomach turning, again. Her eyes dropped to the cut across her breast, and her fingers trembled as they traced its path. Her gaze continued its journey down, finding the gashes over her ribs, and the burns on her pelvis, the skin around the right one bruised a deep purple. She angled her body, so that she could get a better look at her back.

Another, louder, gasp passed her lips as she took in the crisscross of slashes on her back. She'd known they were there, she remembered receiving them, and could feel them every time she moved. She was shocked to see how many of them there were, and how many still had stitches in them.

On trembling legs, she stepped from the shower, tightening the towel around her trembling body. She limped to the toilet, and sank down on its closed lid.

"Everything alright?" Oliver asked from the crack in the doorway, keeping his eyes averted.

"I... I'll be out in a minute." she called back, unable to keep the quaver of tears out of her voice.

Oliver was in the bathroom, kneeling in front of her, before she could blink. He took both of her hands in his, and looked up into her tear streaked face.

"Hey," he whispered, "talk to me."

She shook her head, swiping fingers under her eyes to wipe away the moisture that had managed to escape.

"Felicity, let me help you." he pled, not caring for a second that Oliver Queen was begging. "I've been where you are, I know how difficult it can be. I know that it feels like you're alone, like no one can possibly understand how much pain you're in. But, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere... There is nothing in the world that can change that. There's nothing you can ever say, or do, that will make me walk away. Do you understand me?"

Felicity didn't speak, as she reached for him, shifting forward to band her arms around his neck. He stood, hooking an arm behind her knees, and lifting her. He tucked her tiny frame to his chest, as she burrowed her face against his throat, hot tears slipping beneath the collar of his black t-shirt.

He carried her from the bathroom, and sank into one of the chairs beside her bed. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her as tightly as he dared, while her body shook with the force of her sobs. He pressed his lips to her collarbone, whispering words of comfort against her skin.

Neither of them knew how long they sat, locked together that way. Felicity eventually loosened her hold, letting her head press against his chest, with her arms resting in her lap, as she counted his heartbeats. Oliver let a hand trail up and down the length of her arm, soothingly.

"Does it ever stop?" she asked quietly, knowing that he'd understand what she was asking.

"No." he answered honestly. "Eventually, it fades, so that it's not so vivid. It starts to feel like watching a shitty quality movie, instead of like you're living and breathing it."

Felicity contemplated his answer, as she toyed with the hem of her towel. "I didn't realize how hard it would hit me." she confessed, her voice quiet. "Seeing the physical proof, all of it at once... It was more intense than I thought it would be."

Oliver sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "The scars will fade, too." he promised.

"Not entirely." she reasoned flatly. "They'll always be there, reminding me of what happened."

"Reminding you of what you survived." he rectified. "Of how strong you are, and how hard you fought to stay alive... To come home."

Felicity turned her face into his chest, breathing him into her lungs. The corner of her mouth twitched when she felt him tighten his arms around her. She shivered, his skin warm against her exposed flesh.

"You should get dressed." Oliver told her, though he made no move to release her.

"Probably." she agreed, as she snuggled closer to his chest. "I have to do something with my hair, too, or I'm going to look like Medusa."

Oliver shifted under her, so that he was supporting her with one hand on her thigh. He reached for the towel around her head, tugging the end free, and letting her hair fall loose. He ran his fingers through the damp ringlets, smiling softly when Felicity practically purred.

"I can braid it for you, if you want." he offered casually.

Felicity's head popped up, meeting his eye with a brow lifted in question. "You can braid hair?"

He chuckled, wrapping a curl around his finger. "Don't sound so surprised. I'm pretty good with my hands, you know."

Felicity snorted. "A bow and arrow are a far cry from hairbrushes and french braids."

"You can thank Thea." he explained, with a fond grin. "She made me learn, when she was little. She would never let my mom do her hair, always asking for me, or my dad. So, I learned how to do a few of the basics."

Felicity stared at him, her jaw hanging open in surprise. "How did I not know this about you?" she balked.

Oliver shrugged one shoulder. "It never came up."

He stood, lifting her with him, and crossing to set her in the middle of her bed. He slipped in behind her, with one leg dangling over the edge, and started brushing out her hair. She closed her eyes to the sensation, forcing back the sigh of pleasure rising to her lips. Felicity sat still, as he began winding her hair back. He made quick work of it, and she was shocked when he tied the end off with a hair tie he found on the table beside the bed.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, and the warmth of his body against her back, when he leaned into her. "Done." he said, a bit proudly, if his tone was any indication.

Felicity lifted a hand to run it over the plait. "Impressive, Mr. Queen." She grinned, as he shifted out from behind her, to stand next to the bed.

He returned her smile, before making his way to the the little closet by the door. The bag Digg and Lyla brought her was tucked inside, sitting on a shelf. Oliver pulled it down, and brought it to Felicity so she could go through it, to find what she wanted to wear.

She settled on a pair of loose-fitting, gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that had, once upon a time, belonged to Oliver. She decided against putting on a bra, since the band would cross right over one of the deeper cuts on her back, and put pressure on the sutured wound over her heart. Instead, she opted to pull a cami on, to give her a little extra coverage.

"Before you get dressed, your wounds need to be covered." he reminded her.

She frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. "Do we have to call the nurse? Can't you just do it?"

"It's up to you. If you'd rather I do it, that's fine." he agreed, already pulling gauze and tape down from the cabinet beside her closet.

"Normally, I wouldn't object to having a medical professional tend to my wounds," she offered her explanation, though she knew he didn't need one, "but, considering where they are, and how I got them... I'd just prefer if you did it."

Oliver met her eyes, conveying his understanding, and she smiled her thanks.

"You might want to, at least, put on the panties and the tank-top." He pointed out.

Oliver turned his back to her while she dressed, after she declined his assistance. He had to force himself to stay turned around while he listened to her struggle to step into the underwear. He knew it was hard for her to bend any significant amount.

With a growl of frustration, having only managed to hook one foot into the waist of her panties, she relented.

"Fine." she grumbled. "I need help."

Fighting the smirk that threatened to turn up the corners of his lips, Oliver turned to face her. His eyes were drawn to the long expanse of her bare legs, before he reminded himself that she was still healing. He gave himself a sharp reprimand, as he moved to take the pink cotton, bikini cut underwear from her hand.

He squatted down, letting her balance herself with a hand on his shoulder, and helped her step into them. He dragged them up to the bottom of her thighs, before letting her finish pulling them up. She shimmied them under the towel, wincing as the thin fabric snagged on the stitches on the inside of her thigh. Ignoring the twinge of pain, she pulled the cami over her head, covering her breasts, before she let the towel drop. Oliver bent to pick it up, and threw it over the back of one of the chairs.

He helped her lift herself up, so that she was perched on the edge of the bed. Dragging a chair over, he settled into it, with her feet propped between his legs. He started with her ankles, re-wrapping them easily, and securing them in place with tape.

He let one of her feet drop, bending her right knee up, so he could better access the injury on the inside of her thigh. As delicately as he could manage, he wound the gauze high around her thigh, covering the wound, and then taping it off.

Clearing his throat, his pulse feeling a little quicker than normal, Oliver pushed the chair back, and made his way behind her. He lifted the back of her top, and set to work dressing the multitude of gashes on her back. He worked quickly. Having dressed his fair share of wounds, he was well practiced in the action.

When he finished with her back, he pulled the back of her top down, covering some of the bandages. He stepped back around the bed, coming to stop in front of her.

"Lift your shirt." he ordered, though his words were soft.

She complied, lifting the fabric to her navel, and leaning back, so he could dress the burns on her pelvis. She winced when he pressed the tape into her right hip, but he didn't notice, for which she was thankful.

He unfolded the fabric of her camisole, covering the gauze. He pointed to her wrists, next, and she offered them to him. He finished one, placing it gently in her lap, before starting the next. Oliver let his fingers linger on the thin skin of her forearm, when he finished wrapping the second.

His eyes started to lift to hers, but were derailed when he caught sight of the wound over her heart. Felicity watched his eyes darken, and could feel the emotions rolling off of him.

"I'm so sorry." Oliver whispered, catching her off guard, his head hanging as if in shame.

Felicity's eyebrows knit together, as she stared blankly at the sandy blonde hair at his crown. "I don't understand." she admitted. "What on earth do you have to be sorry for?"

Oliver shook his head, not lifting it to meet her gaze. He took her left hand in his, and pressed it to his cheek, but his head remained bowed. "I'm sorry that I didn't protect you." he told her, hoarsely. "I'm sorry that I let him get anywhere near you, in the first place. I'm sorry that I took so long to find you, and that I couldn't stop him from hurting you."

"None of this is your fault, Oliver." she told him, with conviction that she felt in every bone in her body, her thumb rubbing delicate circles into his cheek.

He finally raised his head, and she could see the pain and guilt swirling in the blue depths of his eyes. Those eyes fell to the dip between her breasts, and he lifted his right hand, letting a finger ghost over the skin beside the wound there. Felicity shivered, both from his touch, and the memory that accompanied the wound.

"That one is the worst." she whispered, letting her hands fall back into her lap, her fingers wringing themselves.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked, his tone so brittle that it hurt her soul.

She warred with herself, unsure if telling him would make him feel better, or worse. She decided that it would make _her_ feel better, and that was reason enough to share it with him. She couldn't meet his eyes, while she spoke, so she stared at a spot on the floor as the words tumbled out.

"All of the other... things, that he did to me..." she struggled to explain. "They were all about him, and his ability to hurt me. But, this was different. This one was all about hurting you, and using me to do it. Every day, he tried to convince me that you weren't coming. He told me that you thought I was dead, and that you weren't even looking for me."

She didn't see the flash of pain that darkened his face.

"I guess he thought that he could undo everything between us. Break the bond... When I didn't waver, he got really angry. He told me that he was going to send me back to you, piece by piece..." She choked on the words, as tears welled in her eyes.

Oliver didn't interrupt, knowing that she needed to get this out, no matter how much the words hurt both of them. He took her hand, again, squeezing it encouragingly.

With a deep breath she continued. "He said that my heart... My heart was the last piece he'd send you, because it was the part of me that held onto you the tightest. He gave me this," She indicated the gash over her heart, "when he threatened to cut it out, the first time. I guess, to prove he was serious or something."

Oliver was quiet, her words echoing around his mind. When he finally spoke, it was through the lump in his throat.

"You said that one is the worst?" He let his eyes flicker to her chest.

Felicity nodded, still staring at the floor.

"Your worst wound is the one meant to hurt me?"

She nodded again, and he could see the tears dripping onto her lap. He slipped a finger under her chin, lifting it gently, so he could see her face.

"Felicity." he murmured, the single word conveying everything that he couldn't bring himself to say.

She reluctantly met his eyes, and was shocked to see moisture glistening there.

"I..." Words seemed to escape him.

He stood, suddenly, forcing her to tilt her head back, to keep her eyes on his. He cupped a hand to the side of her neck, his thumb tracing the edge of her jaw. He dipped his head, letting his lips brush over her forehead. His lips moved delicately over one cheek, and then the other. Her eyes fluttered closed, as she was overwhelmed by the gentleness of the action. She felt his hands slide over her skin, coming to rest on each side of her jaw. His thumb grazed over her bottom lip, and her breath hitched at the contact. Before she realized his thumb had moved, it was replaced with his lips, maddeningly soft against hers.

Their first kiss had been a storm. A clash of thunder and lightning, too long trapped in a bottle. A violent explosion of things that had long been suppressed, things they had tried desperately to ignore.

This kiss, was like coming home. It was comfortable, as though they'd done it, a million times over. It was quiet, like an open field in the middle of the falling snow. It was calming, and peaceful, and neither of them knew a kiss could feel so much like finding something you hadn't known was lost.

Oliver held her face to his, his lips stroking over hers with heartbreaking tenderness. He felt her hands at his wrists, holding him to her as though she were afraid he might disappear. Her lips moved with his, pressing into his with gentle encouragement. Oliver took the hint, his kiss becoming more firm, his lips seeking more from hers. He sucked her bottom lip between his, flicking it with his tongue.

Felicity moaned softly, her heart hammering in her ears. One of the hands at his wrist reached up to curl around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips slanted over hers, briefly, before he broke the contact. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed tightly, as he tried to reign himself in.

Both of them were panting, and Oliver thought that he felt his hands tremble, just the slightest bit, when he brushed his thumb over her lips again.

"I..." Felicity cleared her throat, "I wasn't expecting that."

"I've been trying to do that for weeks." Oliver chuckled softly, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, before, reluctantly, pulling away.

"To be fair, I was indisposed for almost two of them." She smiled at him, as he sank into the chair behind him.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, grimacing. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny." She grinned.

Never able to resist her smile, he relented, and gave her a small smile of his own. Because, no one, in the world, could make him smile the way she did.

"There it is." She winked. "Now, can we finish my partial mummification?"

"In a hurry to be somewhere?" Oliver asked, but he was already standing to pick up a square of gauze.

Felicity nodded, smiling again. "Didn't you hear? I get to go home tomorrow!"


	12. The Waiting Game

**Author's note: You guys really are the best! All of your kind words and amazing reviews make my whole life, at this point! **

**Prepare yourself for Olicity goodness in this chapter :)**

* * *

"I thought you were taking me home?" Felicity challenged, from the backseat of the Bentley.

"I did." Oliver smirked, glancing over at her. "My home."

He watched the smile tug up the corners of her mouth as Digg drove up the long driveway, parking at the front door. Oliver climbed out first, coming around the car to assist Felicity. She was still limping on her right leg, but she refused to use crutches. She had argued with Dr. Tenner for most of the morning, before the man had finally given in, and signed her release forms, sans crutches.

Felicity straightened, leaning heavily on Oliver. He helped her make her way to the door, where Digg was already waiting. Oliver maneuvered her slowly toward the living room, watching her carefully for any sign that she needed to rest. He was pleased to find a smile firmly in place, only the occasional wince flitting over her features, but disappearing quickly.

As he helped her through the doorway, they were met with a wall of noise. Felicity looked up to find a banner hanging over the fireplace, reading:

_**WELCOME HOME, FELICITY!**_

In the center of the room, she found the origins of the noise. All of her friends and family stood before her, clapping and cheering. Her mother and father were at the front of the small crowd, standing beside Moira, Thea and Roy. Felicity felt the tears forming, a solid ball of emotion lodging itself in her chest.

She looked to Oliver, seeing the smile she loved gracing his face. "Did you do this?" she whispered.

His smile only widened, though he winked, guiding her forward. She was quickly enveloped in the arms of her weeping parents, who clung to her as though she might fade away at any second.

"I'm okay." she promised them, the tears slipping down her cheeks.

"We were so worried." her mother sobbed. "We thought we'd lost you."

"You scared the hell out of us, Felicity." her father choked, pressing kisses to her hair.

Felicity held them tighter, knowing they needed to feel her in their arms, to know that she was there. When they finally released her, she immediately found herself wrapped in Thea's arms. The younger woman tightened her arms around her neck, and cried softly against her hair, until Roy pulled her away.

"Let her breathe, Thea." he whispered, pulling his girlfriend against his chest.

Felicity felt Oliver at her elbow, as she wiped at the moisture on her cheeks. She drew strength from him, knowing he was right beside her.

Moira was the next to pull Felicity into a hug, though her embrace was much gentler than her daughter's had been. "It's so good to see you." Moira spoke fondly, releasing Felicity to meet her eyes.

"It's good to be seen." Felicity smiled, clasping Moira's hand briefly.

"Come on." Oliver took her arm, guiding her toward the far side of the room. "Let's get you off of your feet." Felicity let him maneuver her to an oversized chair, and help her settle against the cushions. "Do you need anything?" he asked, squatting down in front of her.

"I wouldn't say no to a drink."

He narrowed his eyes, prepared to argue, when Roy swept in with a glass of champagne, slipping it into her hand with a wink, and backing away.

"You shouldn't be drinking with all the meds you're on." Oliver admonished.

"One glass of champagne won't hurt anything." she promised, sipping the cool bubbly, savoring the pleasant tingling in her throat.

Oliver shook his head, but didn't argue.

Lyla came to sit with her, while Oliver made his rounds of the room. She grinned at the pair, when Oliver pressed a lingering kiss to Felicity's forehead, before he stepped away.

"It's good to see you guys like that." Lyla whispered, conspiratorially.

Felicity only grinned.

Felicity and Lyla were debating possible baby names, when Felicity's parents joined them. David sat beside her, on the arm of her chair, enveloping her tiny hand with his much larger one. He didn't offer any insight into the continued discussion, he just held her hand, reassuring himself that his baby girl was safe and sound beside him. Karen sat beside Lyla, offering her pearls of pregnancy wisdom, and smiling thankfully at her daughter.

Taylor and Kerri made their way over to where Felicity sat, each of them pressing kisses to her unbruised cheek. Felicity felt Oliver's eyes on her, could practically feel the lingering jealousy, when Taylor kissed her. She ignored it, smiling and assuring her friends that she was alright.

An hour and a half later, everyone had slowly begun to file out. Felicity hadn't left her seat, after the first time she tried, and Oliver had shot across the room, ordering her back. She'd rolled her eyes at him, but obeyed. She'd never tell him, but his over-protective-cave-man persona secretly made her feel cherished, and maybe just a little pleased.

When her parents informed her they were going to head back to their hotel, she insisted Oliver help her to her feet, so that she could say goodbye, properly.

"We'll call in the morning." David kissed Felicity's forehead, before brushing a thumb over the bruise that was slowly beginning to fade, his blue eyes glistening with moisture.

"Get some rest. We love you." Karen hugged her tightly, her hand coming up to stroke over Felicity's hair.

Felicity watched them depart, a watery smile on her lips.

"We're going to take off, too." Lyla came up beside her, and kissed her cheek.

Digg followed his wife's lead, then shook hands with Oliver. "Let us know if you need anything."

Oliver nodded, slipping an arm around Felicity's waist, pulling her against his side. He turned her, leading her to the media room, where Thea and Roy were sitting, alone. Felicity sank into a chaise lounge, wincing at the protesting ache in her hip.

"You okay?" Oliver hovered by her side, concern in his eyes.

Felicity nodded. "Just tired, and a little sore."

"Why don't I take you up to bed?" he offered.

"Okay." she agreed. "But, do you mind if I talk to Roy first?"

Roy looked up from his conversation with Thea, confusion written on his face.

Oliver mirrored the expression, but shrugged, turning to his sister. "Thea, will you come help me turn down the sheets?"

Thea nodded, rising from the loveseat. She gave Felicity a quick hug, and then followed Oliver from the room.

Roy moved to the end of the loveseat, so that he was sitting closer to Felicity. "What's up?" he asked, his brows drawn together.

"I just wanted to say thank you." Felicity told him, shifting forward to take his hand in hers.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "For what?"

"For coming home from Gotham. For figuring out where I was, and coming to get me. If it hadn't been for you, who knows how long I might have been stuck there..."

"Felicity, you don't have to thank me for that. We're family." he told her, squeezing her hand. "That's what family does."

She nodded, but there was more that she wanted to say. "I also wanted to thank you for what you said." Roy's brow furrowed, again. "When you cut me out of that chair..." Felicity swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. "When you held onto me... I heard you tell me to fight. You said that Oliver was coming, and that I had to fight. I heard you, and I held on to those words."

Roy stood from the loveseat, then sat on the edge of her chair, her hands in his. He was quiet for a moment, and Felicity could see him struggling with his thoughts. "When I saw you... What he did to you... I don't think I've ever been so scared." he confessed, his voice soft. "I thought we were too late, that maybe you were already gone. There was so much blood, I couldn't imagine how anyone could survive that. But, when I got to you, you were breathing. You still had a pulse, and I hoped that you might hear me. Oliver... You didn't see him, Felicity."

She tightened her hold on his hands, urging him to go on.

"I've never seen him like that." Roy continued. "It was like he wasn't even there. I mean, he was just a husk, you know? You being gone... It was like he was gone, too. Not because he thought you were dead, because he didn't believe that. But, because, I think, he doesn't know how to live in a world without you in it. It was like a whole part of him was missing, because you weren't there. I know it's the same way, for you. So, I knew that if I wanted you to keep fighting, telling you he was there, was the only way you would listen."

Felicity swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks, before she leaned forward to wrap her arms around Roy's shoulders.

"Thank you." she whispered, as his hand rubbed soothingly over the middle of her back.

"Everything alright?" Oliver called softly, from the doorway.

Felicity released Roy, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, before shifting to see Oliver. "Everything is perfect." she smiled, her watery eyes meeting his.

Roy stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets, and strode from the room, after offering Oliver a nod.

Oliver crossed the room, coming to a stop beside her chair. "Ready?" he asked, looking down at her, and offering her his hand.

She slipped her hand into his, and let him pull her to her feet. Oliver took most of her weight, knowing that her hip was bothering her. She was grateful for the assistance, especially when it came time to climb the stairs. She went slow, giving herself time to adjust to the movements, and the way the stitches tugged in her thigh. She had to stop, halfway up, and catch her breath.

"These stairs are a bitch." she joked, breathlessly, trying to wipe the frown from Oliver's face.

"Why won't you just let me carry you?" he demanded, his hand against her back for support.

She knew that his concern for her was making his tone sharp, and that he wasn't actually angry with her. "I need to restrengthen the muscle, Oliver." she reminded him. "Babying it isn't going to do any good. I've got to use it, and you carrying me isn't going to accomplish that."

"That's what physical therapy is for, Felicity." he argued. "You can't do too much, too soon. You did half of them, let me carry you the rest of the way. We'll try again, tomorrow."

Felicity rolled her eyes, huffing out a breath. She crossed her arms over her chest, wincing when her breasts pushed together, and the stitches over her heart pulled at her skin. Frustrated, she dropped her arms, a low growl forming in her throat.

"Are you growling at me?" Oliver quirked an eyebrow in her direction, a faint smile playing around his lips.

"No." she denied, but paused. "Okay, yeah. Maybe a little."

He chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated through her bones. She felt some of her frustration ebb, and found herself smiling up at him. "Fine." she caved, lifting an arm, with exaggerated flourish, so he could duck beneath it. "Carry me, if you must."

Oliver bent, scooping her legs out from beneath her, and lifting her, in one smooth action. She automatically tightened her arms around his neck, grinning at the triumphant smile he wore. He carried her up the remainder of the stairs, and through the long hallway to his room. He nestled her back against the pillows on his bed, helping her adjust to find a comfortable position. When she was settled, he crossed the room, to his bathroom, returning a moment later with a glass of water and a pain pill clasped in his palm.

"Here." He dropped the pill into her hand, and offered her the glass.

As she swallowed, she watched his face. She could see that something was on his mind, churning just under the surface. His eyes were carefully shuttered, his body held purposely loose. It was almost impossible to see the muscle in his jaw twitch, or the burning curiosity in his baby blues.

Unless, you were Felicity Smoak.

She sighed heavily. "Just ask already."

Oliver looked surprised for a moment, before a grin split his face. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

Felicity rolled her eyes, her grin echoing his. "I just wanted to thank him, and let him know that I heard him."

Oliver recalled their conversation in the hospital, when she'd told him she remembered hearing Roy speak to her, in the brewery, when he'd cut her bindings. The question of whether or not she'd heard Oliver's own words, in the back of the car or while she was in the coma, rose to the front of his thoughts.

"Is that all you remember?" he asked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant, though his stomach was in knots. "Did you hear anything else while you were unconscious?"

Felicity knew what he was asking. She'd replayed those words, spoken in fear and desperation, over and over, for the last few days. She had found herself wondering, more than once, if he was going to ask her about them, ask her if she'd heard them. She didn't know which answer he wanted more, but the truth was the only route she'd ever taken with him.

Her eyes softened, and she smiled tenderly at him. He felt a strange flutter in his heart at the warmth in her gaze. The amount of understanding, and undiluted love in her eyes made his gut tighten.

"No." She finally responded, never breaking eye contact. "There are other things that I remember." When Oliver didn't ask her to elaborate, she knew it was going to be up to her, to start this conversation. "There are a few, one sided, conversations that I remember." she explained. "For instance, I remember hearing Digg read to me from the Technology section of the newspaper." She smiled at the memory.

She also remembered hearing John tell her that she wasn't allowed to die, and hearing the tears in his voice. She recalled some of the stories he'd whispered to her, memories of his time in the military, of battles fought in sand. She wouldn't share those memories with Oliver, or even with John, himself. Those were just for her.

"I remember hearing you, too." Felicity told Oliver. She watched his face, but his expression didn't change. He looked worried, but there was something else there, something open and exposed that called to a part of her she knew belonged only to him. "I heard you tell me to fight, to come back to you. You told me not to give up on you. I'm pretty sure there was some Harry Potter in there, at some point." She added the last part to lighten the heaviness that settled around them.

Oliver smiled softly. "Anything else?"

Felicity reached out a hand, and he stepped forward to take it. He sat beside her, on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressed against her hip. His eyes were downcast, but she could still read the fragility in his body language. She found herself amazed that after everything he'd been through, things that hardened him into a man capable of immeasurable violence, he could still manage to be the embodiment of vulnerability.

"Oliver." She spoke his name gently, drawing his eyes up.

He met her gaze, his eyes ablaze with self-doubt. Felicity knew that he'd never stop worrying that he was too flawed, too broken to be deserving of her love. She was sure that every day, for the rest of their lives, he would convince himself that, after the things he'd done, he didn't deserve to have her by his side, to have her want to be there. Thankfully, Felicity was sure enough, for both of them. She knew that there was no man in the world that could ever mean to her what Oliver did. There was no doubt in her mind that he was _it_ for her. Oliver Queen had wound his way around her heart, around her very soul, and there was no escaping him.

They didn't have to have some huge discussion about their feelings and the way their relationship was changing. In truth, both of them knew this was inevitable. Eventually, they would have reached the place where their relationship crossed the lines they'd drawn, and they let themselves succumb to the inescapable. Felicity's ordeal had simply forced them to skip ahead in their upward trajectory. Their path had been decided on, and set in motion, five years ago. Bearing that in mind, Felicity decided that being direct was the best approach.

"I love you, damn it." she whispered, an echo of the words he'd spoken in the back of the car, when he was begging her to fight for her life.

Oliver's eyes slid closed, his hands tightening reflexively around hers. He felt his heart stutter against his ribs, as her words crashed over him.

Without thinking about it, he surged forward, crushing his lips against hers. He felt her melt against him, her arms snaking around his neck without hesitation. Her fingers threaded through his short locks, as she pulled him against her. Oliver shifted up on his knees, supporting his weight, while he gently pressed her back against the pillows. He hovered over her, as his tongue swept along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. Her lips parted instantly, and he dove in. Her tongue met his with wild enthusiasm, dueling for control. A wave of white hot lust sizzled through his veins, forcing him to drag his lips away from hers, gasping for air.

Felicity blinked up at him, her eyes wide. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"We can't do this right now." Oliver breathed, though his eyes flickered down to her lips, briefly.

"We can't make out?" She arched a brow in question, tilting her head at him.

"Making out isn't the problem, Felicity." He informed her, pushing his pelvis against her, to demonstrate his point.

She grinned, feeling his hard length pressing into the supple flesh of her thigh. "I don't see how that's a problem."

Oliver laughed hoarsely, before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. He pulled away from her, just far enough to sit back on his heels.

"It's a problem, because after almost six years of wanting you so bad it hurt, our first time together is not going to be with you in pain, and me afraid of hurting you."

"Oh?" she questioned, her grin turning salacious, as she propped herself up on her elbows. "What will our first time be like, then?"

Oliver leaned down, brushing his lips over her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "The first time I make love to you, Felicity, is going to be when you're fully healed, so that I don't have to be gentle. It's going to be me, taking my time, and loving you like I've dreamt about for the last six years. " He rasped his stubble over the edge of her jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of her neck. "It's going to be you, soaking wet, and moaning my name." He grinned against her throat, hearing her breath coming hard and ragged, as he let his lips trace the column of her neck. "It's going to be seismic. It might even register on the Richter Scale."

Felicity whimpered, turning her head just in time to capture his lips with her own. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, catching it between her teeth and nipping lightly. She shivered when she heard the groan rumble in Oliver's throat.

She pulled away, her eyes burning into his. She knew that the pure, unadulterated lust in his eyes, was mirrored in her own. When she spoke, her voice was much huskier than either of them were used to. It carried a hint of promise, and the slightest whiff of challenge. "I'm going to hold you to that."

* * *

Waiting proved to be more difficult than either of them had expected. After so many years spent toeing the line between lovers and friends, Oliver and Felicity had both assumed that waiting another week or two would be a cakewalk.

Day one proved that they were very much mistaken on that assumption.

Felicity awoke to find the bed empty, Oliver's side long gone cold. On his pillow was a note:

_**Felicity,**_

_**Got called in to QC. **_

_**I should be back before you even know I'm gone, but, just in case, I didn't want you to worry.**_

_**Thea & Roy are home, if you need anything.**_

_**Oliver**_

A wide grin split her face, warmth blooming in her chest. It was so very "Oliver" to leave a note, knowing that she would, indeed, worry, waking up to an empty bed. After a few moments of allowing herself to breath in the scent of him which lingered on the sheets beneath her, Felicity slowly pushed herself up, shifting carefully across the king size. She grabbed her glasses from the nightstand, slipping them on, before trying to lower herself to the floor. Her feet barely brushed the ground, from her position at the bed's edge, so she had to scoot further forward, hissing a little when her back slid along the edge of mattress, scraping at one of the larger cuts on her lower back.

With her feet planted firmly on the floor, she limped across the room, pulling her hair up in a messy top-knot as she went. Throwing open the door, she hobbled out into the hallway, intent on making her way to the kitchen, in search of coffee. It was slow going, as her right leg seemed unwilling to cooperate with her wishes. Forcing it to do as she bid, eventually, she made it the top of the staircase. With a sigh of frustration, she began her descent, holding the railing firmly to stop herself from wobbling unsteadily.

She'd made it about halfway down when Roy appeared at the bottom of the steps, shaking his head while an amused smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

"Don't." Felicity put a hand out, palm up, as he started towards her. "I can manage on my own."

"You know Oliver will kill me if you fall, right?" Roy crossed his arms over his chest, holding himself in place, per her request.

"I'm not going to fall." she assured him. "What is it with you two, and stairs?" she mumbled under her breath, as she continued making her way down to where he was standing.

She felt Roy's eyes on her, watching her like a hawk. Trying to stifle a grin, she pretended to sway in place, waving her arm widely as if struggling to catch her balance. Roy rushed toward her, stopping abruptly at the sound of her laughter.

"That was cold." He narrowed his eyes, pegging her with a glare.

"Oh, stop." she teased. "A girl's got to entertain herself."

"By giving me a heart attack?" His tone was sarcastic, but he hovered in front of her, walking backwards as she conquered another two steps.

"You should have seen your face!" She giggled, appreciating the way he smiled back at her, his irritation already forgotten.

"You're not going to make this easy for us, are you?" he asked, his tone resigned, but amused, nonetheless.

Felicity's feet finally reached the first floor, and she smiled brightly at the accomplishment. "Probably not." she agreed.

Roy walked with her, staying at her side even though she was moving at a snails pace, as she made her way to the kitchen. When they entered, Thea turned to greet them, from her perch on a stool at the island in the center of the large room.

"Hey!" She smiled, hopping from the stool to fix a cup of coffee for Felicity. "I figured you'd be out until this afternoon."

Felicity let Roy help her onto a seat, smiling gratefully when Thea set a steaming mug on the placemat before her. "I kind of feel like I've had more than enough sleep, lately." she explained.

Thea nodded her understanding. "I'd imagine you're getting tired of beds, as a whole, at this point."

Felicity laughed. "Something like that."

"You want something to eat?" Roy offered. "I was just about to make pancakes."

"Sounds good." Felicity accepted, eagerly.

She and Thea watched Roy work, moving around the kitchen effortlessly. He put bacon in the oven, under the broiler, while he prepped the rest of his ingredients. In no time at all, he had the griddle hot, and pancake batter ready to be poured.

"So," Felicity asked, turning her attention back to the youngest Queen sibling, "When are you guys going back to Gotham?"

"Not until next week." Thea explained. "Bruce has been really understanding about everything. He insisted that I not set foot back in his city until you were home for at least a week."

Felicity smiled at that. While he and Oliver seemed to have a strained, I'm-the-better-superhero kind of relationship, she and Bruce had always been on friendly terms. He was a good man, despite, or maybe because of, his flaws. Felicity saw, in Gotham's Dark Knight, a lot of the same qualities that Oliver, himself, possessed. She guessed that that was why she found it so easy to be friendly toward him, much as she had been with Oliver, in the beginning.

Of course, it didn't hurt that Bruce knew he had an IT expert within reach if he ever needed an extra set of eyes, and a genius IQ at his disposal.

"He's a good man." Felicity assured her. "You'll learn a lot at his company."

Thea nodded her agreement, but her eyes were trained on Roy, following his movements as he flipped pancakes, and set them aside. Felicity grinned, wondering if her own face ever carried that enthralled expression, when she looked at Oliver. Thinking about it, she knew that it must. Oliver always seemed to evoke those kinds of warm, encompassing emotions in her, and her face tended toward being quite expressive.

Felicity felt his presence, a hot shower of sparks cascading over the back of her neck, slipping down her spine, before she heard his deep voice right beside her, his lips a breath's distance from the shell of her ear.

"What are you doing out of bed, Felicity?" he murmured, sending a shiver through her.

"I guess you wouldn't believe that I'm a figment of your imagination, and the real Felicity is still tucked in bed, safe and sound, upstairs?" she ventured, her tone teasing and light.

"Unlikely." he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her neck. "Points for creativity, though."

Thea watched them from the corner of her eye, a smile playing around her lips at the intimacy of their interaction. She shifted her gaze to Roy, who was grinning, his head bowed to hide it, while he flipped pancakes. He met her eyes, confirming silently that he saw the change, too. Thea wondered if her brother and Felicity realized that they were so obvious, or if they even cared, one way or the other.

"You'll be annoyed to know that I made it all the way down the stairs without having to be carried, or assisted in any way." Felicity informed Oliver, who closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the curve where her shoulder met her neck.

"Please tell me you at least let someone know you were attempting them." he sighed, resignation clear in his words.

"Have I ever lied to you?" she asked sweetly.

"No." he answered, automatically.

"So, why start now?" Felicity winked at Roy, who was watching their exchange with apparent delight.

"Nice." Oliver lifted his head, shaking it in reluctant amusement.

"If it makes you feel any better, Roy was there for about half of it."

"Yeah, I tried to help but, she's pretty damn stubborn." Roy shrugged, ladling out another batch of pancakes.

"I'm well aware." Oliver acknowledged, as he walked around the island to drag open the doors of the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of water, then made his way back around to sit beside Felicity.

"The point is, I did it." She reminded them.

"You're still on restricted duty, Felicity." Oliver's tone left no room for argument, as he lifted the bottle to his lips.

Felicity pushed out her bottom lip, pouting prettily. She leaned into his space, so that only he could hear her when she spoke. "So, no earthquakes then?" she purred.

Oliver choked on his water, coughing roughly to clear the liquid from his windpipe. Felicity maintained a straight face, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Jeez, Ollie." Thea shook her head. "Slow down, why don't you?"

Oliver watched the wicked smile spread across Felicity's face, and felt the answering tug in his groin. She turned away from him, giving her attention back to Roy, who was removing bacon from the oven. Oliver took a deep breath, realizing for the first time, how long this wait was truly going to be.


	13. Not Made Of Glass

**Author's note: As always, thank you, so much, for every kind word, and every amazing review. You guys keep me motivated to keep writing this story (which has turned into a bit of a monster :D). **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Day five found Oliver at his desk, in his office at QC.

His temporary assistant was reminding him how lucky he was to have Felicity on a regular basis. The woman, Leena, a pretty brunette in her late twenties, was a social climber first, and a professional assistant second. She was none too subtle with her flirtations, constantly finding reasons to catch Oliver, alone, in his office. She leaned just a little too far over the edge of his desk, while asking him to sign paperwork. She fluttered her eyelashes when she looked at him, making her green eyes wide and innocent, a move that made his hackles rise. She accomplished only the bare minimum of work, to keep herself employed.

Oliver couldn't wait for his tiny blonde hurricane to blow back into the office.

When the clock struck one, he was striding out of his office, intent on getting home to Felicity. She hadn't allowed him to take her recovery time off, from work, but she hadn't argued when he'd offered the compromise that he'd work half days until she was ready to come back. After all, he'd reasoned, his mother was more than capable of running the ship in his partial absence.

"Mr. Queen." Leena called from her desk, standing to follow him to the elevator. "Mrs. Queen needs your signature on these drafts before you leave for the day."

As the doors slid closed, Oliver had the distinct feeling of being trapped with a hungry lion. He put distance between them, taking the large stack of papers from her, and signing them quickly. By the time they reached the ground level, he finished the last signature, and handed the drafts along with the pen, back to her. Leena intentionally let her fingers graze over his knuckles as she grasped the pen, letting her thumb run up and down the length of the instrument.

Oliver ignored the move, hoping that if he didn't react to her actions, she'd get the hint and stop trying. The elevator doors glided open, and Oliver exited, gratefully. Leena followed, much to his annoyance. She rushed ahead of him, throwing open the glass door, and standing back to let him through.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Queen." she cooed.

Digg was waiting beside the Bentley, hands clasped in front of him. His eyebrows rose in question, at the tone of the secretary's voice, but Oliver ignored him, sliding into the backseat.

Digg climbed into the driver's seat, a moment later. "You'd better watch yourself with that one." he informed Oliver, seriously.

"She's just another social climber, looking to land a man with a bank account." Oliver sighed, annoyed. "I'm not interested."

"I know that." Digg assured him, as he pulled away from the curb. "But, she doesn't seem to."

"She's only here until Felicity comes back. I survived Lian Yu, John. I think I can survive two or three weeks with Leena." Oliver insisted, his aggravation level rising.

"Maybe so." Digg challenged. "But, do you think you can survive it when Felicity finds out?"

Oliver's brow wrinkled in confusion. "She's not exactly the jealous type."

Diggle looked at him incredulously, as though he were missing something important. "Oliver, after what she just went through, she's going to be a lot more sensitive than she normally is. Not to mention, I'd be willing to bet that her insecurity levels are astronomical, at best."

Oliver still looked perplexed. "What does she have to be insecure about?"

Digg sighed with exasperation. "Look man, I shouldn't be telling you this, and if you tell Lyla that I told you, I'll put you down myself." Oliver nodded his understanding, though the threat carried little weight, and they both knew it. "Last night, while we were on patrol, Felicity called Lyla." Digg began to explain. "She was really upset, and it took Lyla a while to coax it out of her..."

When Diggle hesitated, Oliver leaned forward in his seat, concern apparent in his features.

Digg met his eyes in the mirror, and continued. "She's having trouble adjusting to the scars, Oliver. I guess she thinks they make her less attractive, somehow."

Oliver scoffed at that. "She should know better than that. She's never had an issue with my scars. In a way, I think she kind of likes them, actually. Why would hers bother me?"

"It's not about them bothering you, it's about them bothering _her_." Digg clarified, a hint of annoyance lacing his words. "Women are different, Oliver. Scars, especially ones like she now has, aren't typically seen as being feminine. She's self-conscious."

"So, you think that because she's struggling with the scars, that she'll have an issue with Leena working for me?" Oliver was trying to follow Digg's train of thought, and felt like he was failing miserably.

"I think that she's going to have an issue with an attractive female, who is obviously interested in you, taking her place."

"She's not taking her place, she's just filling in for a while." Oliver tried to argue. Diggle gave him a withering look then, that made him replay the words in his head. He cringed. "Okay, that sounded worse when I said it out loud."

"You think?" Digg shook his head. "You and Felicity are just now, _finally_, getting to a place you should have been years ago. I don't want to see it blow up in your face, because you're an idiot."

"Wow." Oliver couldn't help the grin that creased his face. "Thanks, John."

"Hey, anytime you need someone to tell you that you're an idiot, I'm your guy."

* * *

Diggle dropped Oliver at the mansion, but left quickly, wanting to get home to spend some time with Lyla before their night patrol. Oliver let himself in, and his ears instantly caught the sound of Felicity's tinkling laughter carrying from the media room. He smiled, following the sound.

He stopped in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, to watch her.

She was sitting on the couch, with her back to its arm, cushioned by a mountain of pillows, Thea at the opposite end. Her blonde hair was loose around her face, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. The large bruise over almost half of her face was slowly fading, the purple and yellow giving way to pink and ivory. He watched her adjust her glasses, with a finger at the bridge of her nose, and felt his gut tighten at the familiar gesture.

How could this magnificent woman ever doubt her beauty, especially in his eyes? Had he really never made it clear to her that he cherished every part of her, the good and the bad? Inside and out, she was the manifestation of everything he'd ever hoped to find in love. From her intelligence and her wit, to her stubbornness and fierce temper. He loved every facet of her, and a few physical (and emotional) scars did nothing to change that.

Oliver could tell the moment she felt his presence. Her eyes lit up from within, an easy smile exposing the adorable dimples of her cheeks, as her gaze sought his.

Thea turned, following Felicity's line of sight, and pushed herself from the couch when she spotted Oliver. She walked past him, brushing a kiss across his cheek, which he leaned down to facilitate, without a word. Oliver stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, as he crossed the room to stand beside her.

"Hey." He smiled softly down at her.

"Hey." Her own smile never wavered.

She reached out to him, asking for his hand. He slipped it into her palm, enjoying the gentle vibration that passed from her skin to his. She tugged him down, so that he was sitting beside her, on the edge of the couch cushion. He leaned into her, pressing his lips delicately against hers. The warmth that flooded through him made him grin into the kiss. He felt her lips curl in response, before she pulled back.

She tilted her head at him, reminiscent of the way she'd done a million times since the day he'd walked into her office with a bullet riddled laptop, and a terrible excuse.

"Someone's in a good mood." She observed, her eyes taking in every inch of his face.

"I get to come home to a beautiful woman, who I happen to adore. Can you fault me?" Oliver lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, letting his thumb trace over its edge.

Her eyes glittered at him, her impossibly wide smile getting wider. "You adore me?"

"Are you kidding?" He grinned roguishly. "I love you, damn it."

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that." She smiled impishly, her heart shining through the blue of her eyes.

"Good." Oliver kissed her again, his lips whispering over hers. "Because, I know, I'll never get tired of saying it."

They sat in silence for a while, hands entwined, each of them absorbing the weight of the emotions swirling around them. Felicity was the first to break through the quiet.

"How was work?" she inquired.

"Nothing special." he informed her, not wanting to discuss his day, or his conversation with Digg.

Oliver could hear the wistfulness in her words. He knew she was growing restless, stuck at the mansion, day and night, unable to do either of her two jobs. "I have a proposition for you." he said suddenly, catching her by surprise.

Her eyebrows rose in question. "What kind of proposition?"

"I'll make you a deal. If you agree to let me carry you up, and down, the stairs and promise to take it easy, I won't argue if you want to come to the Foundry tonight." He expected her to fight with him over the stair issue.

"Okay." she agreed easily, her grin giving away her eagerness.

"Okay?" Oliver asked, sure that there was more to it than a simple agreement.

"Okay." She nodded. "You can carry me up, and down, the stairs."

"And, you'll take it easy?" He clarified the terms.

"Oliver, I sit in a chair, at a desk, all night. Physically, it doesn't get much easier than that."

He saw her point. "Alright. But, if you get tired, or are ready to leave, tell me. I'll come and take you home."

"Okay." she acquiesced, again.

He narrowed his eyes at her, playfully. "Who are you, and what have you done with my tiny blonde hurricane?"

She grinned at his description of her. "I've been stuck in one bed, or another, for weeks. And, before that, it was a chair. I've got cabin fever, in the worst possible way. I'd agree to just about anything, at this point, as long as it gets me out of the house."

"Anything, huh?" He smirked, shifting toward her, brushing his lips over her throat.

"Sorry, Queen." Felicity giggled, pushing him back. "I'm on restricted activity at the moment. My boss is a real hard ass about it, too."

Oliver arched a brow at her choice of words. "Your boss?"

"Yeah, my boss." It was her turn to smirk. "You might know him. Ridiculously attractive guy, about 6'1, sandy blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, always looks like he forgot to shave. Oh, and a body you would not believe."

"Hmm..." Oliver made a show of searching his memory banks. "That kind of sounds like your boyfriend, if I'm not mistaken."

Felicity's heart stuttered in her chest at the ease with which he uttered that single word. It had dropped, seamlessly, from his lips, not the slightest hint of hesitation to be found.

"Huh..." Her smirk turned into a beaming smile that melted his heart. "I guess it kind of does."

She grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket, dragging him to her. He came willingly, smiling into her lips as they bruised over his. Gone, was the gentle pressure with which they'd kissed just a few moments before. It was replaced with a heady kind of passion that coursed through him, zinging along his nerve endings, setting his skin ablaze. He felt like he was being dragged under, caught up in a rip tide that refused to let go.

Felicity felt his lips respond eagerly to hers. She drank from him, her lips parting of their own volition. His tongue swept into her mouth, dancing with hers in an achingly beautiful tango. Every fiber of her being came unraveled, in that moment, entwining themselves with his, in a way she hadn't known was possible. She could taste the electrical charge that precedes a rumble of thunder, and the dark, stormy quality that was so uniquely _him_.

They broke away from one another, gasping for air. Felicity's eyes were wide, and glazed over, as though she were drugged. Oliver couldn't be sure, but he suspected his orbs were in a similar state.

"Remind me to call myself your boyfriend, more often." he breathed, tracing his thumb over the edge of her swollen bottom lip.

"You think that was something?" She grinned carnally. "Wait until you call me your girlfriend."

* * *

Felicity shifted in her chair, wincing as her hip protested at being stuck in one position for too long. She glanced around her, once again thankful that she was alone in the Arrow Cave. She had just finished setting up her tracking system, tagging both Commissioner Wilhelm and Officer Reynolds. She wanted to know, the moment either of them stepped, so much as a pinky toe, out of line.

Wilhelm had been on his best behavior since his visit from Oliver. After a trip to the ER to have his wound treated, that is. Reynolds, on the other hand, had yet to reappear. Felicity's best guess was that he was waiting for the smoke to clear, before he risked venturing back into Starling City. Regardless, she was keeping herself informed.

Tonight, Oliver, Digg, and Roy were out patrolling, connected to her by their comms, which were perpetually on mute these days, unless they needed to speak with her. Thea was upstairs, making her rounds at the club. She'd neglected to take a comm-link, but she had her cell, if Felicity needed to reach her.

Pushing herself up, by bracing her hands on her desk, Felicity managed to rise to her feet, arching her back to stretch, only wincing slightly. Oliver had removed the stitches from all but one of the wounds on her back when they'd first arrived, for which she was grateful. The leftover stitches were positioned low on her back, right above her ass, which gave her a bit more freedom of movement than she'd had before. That left her with only four gashes in which sutures were still necessary, though Felicity planned on asking Oliver to remove the ones over her heart, when he got back from patrol. She'd tried to do it herself, after they'd all left, but she couldn't make her hands stop shaking.

The wound on her right hip, where she'd been stabbed and then had the red-hot metal shoved into the knife's track, had dissolvable stitches below the skin, though the surface remained open. Dr. Tenner had explained that because it was a burn, at the surface, it was better to let it heal on its own, rather than stitch it closed. Felicity hadn't argued, relieved to have one less set of sutures.

She began to walk in circles, in the area around her desk, trying to work out the stiffness in her muscles. Oliver had started physical therapy with her, earlier in the evening, and she couldn't have been more pleased about it. He was taking it easy on her, she knew, but it was a start. Working out was one of the things she'd been missing, recently, and physical therapy was a step in the right direction. Working up a sweat on the mats, with either Oliver, Diggle, or Roy, had turned into one of her favorite stress relievers, over the years. The harder she trained, the less tense she felt. About six months into her intensive training, after The Count's first attack, she had finally begun to understand why Oliver trained so hard when he was feeling angry, or on edge.

"Felicity?" Came Oliver's deep voice, through the comm in her ear.

"I'm here." she answered, continuing her path around the desk.

"Can you let Lance know there are two thugs waiting for a pick up in the park?"

"On it." she replied, snagging the new phone Oliver had bought for her from beside the keyboard on her next lap.

She sent a text message letting Detective Lance know where to find the incapacitated criminals, and then stuffed the phone into the pocket of her sweater. "Sent."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice taking on the soft quality it liked to revert to when he was speaking to her.

"I'm fine. Running laps, as we speak." she teased, smiling to herself.

"You'd better be sitting your cute little ass in that chair, Felicity." Oliver ordered, his tone authoritative.

"Of course I am." She fibbed smoothly, running her hand along the back of her chair, as she passed it.

Oliver snorted his disbelief. "Liar."

Her cell buzzed in her pocket, alerting her to a text. She pulled the phone out, and swiped her finger over the screen to reveal a message from Detective Lance, reminding her that he still needed to speak with her, in order to complete his report on The Count ordeal.

Felicity bit her bottom lip, unwilling to relive those memories at that particular moment. "Lance wants a meeting." she informed Oliver. "He wants to finish his report, so he can close the case."

"It can wait." he growled, and Felicity didn't have to see him to know the dangerous glint was flashing in his eyes.

"It's better to just get it over with now." she reasoned, keeping her tone neutral.

"Then, he can come to the house. I don't want you going to the police station." Oliver wasn't happy about it, and Felicity could hear his teeth grinding through the comm-link.

"Fair enough." she agreed, relieved that she hadn't had to fight him harder on it. She replied to Lance, letting him know that he could come to the Queen Mansion the following afternoon.

"You're losing your edge, Smoak." Oliver baited, his tone softening.

"Just choosing my battles, Queen." She couldn't help the grin that tugged up the corners of her mouth.

"I'm heading back." Roy's voice cut in. "There's nothing going on over here, tonight." he briefed them.

"Alright. Let's call it a night." Oliver consented. "Digg, you get that?"

"Got it. Heading back now." Digg confirmed.

Twenty minutes later, two out of three of her men were safely ensconced in the lair. Roy had been the first to arrive, Digg coming in just a minute later. Both men had tried to convince her to sit down, but she brushed them off.

Oliver came in just as she was crossing in front of her desk, continuing her efforts to work the muscle in her hip. "See?" He motioned at her, as she came around the side of the desk, limping past Roy. "Liar."

"Maybe, I _was_ sitting when I was talking to you." Felicity argued, though her tone was playful.

Oliver cocked a brow at her. "Careful, Pinocchio, your nose is growing."

Felicity stuck her tongue out, between her lips, as she made her way around the front of her desk, once more.

Diggle rose from his seat. "Alright, I'm out." he informed them, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Felicity's head as she passed him.

"Goodnight, John." She grinned up at him.

"I'll walk up with you." Roy offered. "I gotta help Thea close up."

Oliver nodded to them both, as they passed, climbing the stairs out of the lair. When he heard the door click behind them, he began shedding his leather. Felicity watched from the corner of her eye, heat pooling between her thighs when he dragged the hooded jacket from his shoulders, the tight black shirt he wore beneath it, straining even tighter across his chest. She kept her eyes on him as she made another lap around her desk.

Oliver felt her eyes on him, leaving paths, like a comet's tail, seared into his flesh. He couldn't help the smile that cracked his face, at her perusal. He stripped off the rest of his uniform, making slow work of it, as he hung it in its case. He stepped into a pair of jeans, and fastened them low on his hips. When he finally turned to face her, he noted the light flush gracing her cheeks, and the darkness that engulfed her eyes, leaving only slivers of blue visible. He approached her slowly, holding her gaze as he prowled closer. A knowing smirk touched his lips at the sound of her breath catching in her throat.

The intensity in Oliver's eyes took her breath away. There was so much conveyed in the look, Felicity would have sworn she was drowning in it. Lust was blazing in the foreground, hot and dark. But, there was more there. There was the love she'd always seen, now somehow brighter and more fierce. There was a tenderness lingering in the depths, a quality she knew he reserved just for her.

Oliver slipped his arms around her waist, lifting her onto her toes and dragging her body flush with his. His head dipped, his lips unerringly finding hers, sending bolts of crackling light through her. He lingered, only briefly, before breaking the contact, and burying his face in the side of her neck, inhaling deeply.

"Let me take you home." he murmured, his breath tickling her skin.

She let her hands run up and down his biceps, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. "After you remove one more set of stitches?" she asked, trying to conceal the slight tremor in her voice.

Oliver leaned back, his eyes searching her face. He'd heard the quaver, and it made his chest ache. "Which set?"

Felicity let her gaze slide away from his, as she lifted a hand to trace a finger down the center of her torso. "I tried to do it, thinking that maybe it'd be easier, on both of us, if I just did it myself... " she mumbled, trailing off.

Without speaking, Oliver tugged her toward the med-bay. He caught her around the waist, lifting her onto the metal table. He walked away, under the guise of gathering the tools he needed, but also needing the time to even his breathing. He knew how much the wound over her heart had haunted her, how much emotional distress it had caused, on top of the already painful physical aspect. He took several deep breaths, before making his way back to her.

He set a tiny pair of scissors and set of tweezers on the table beside her, and nodded at her shirt. "I need you to open that."

Felicity lifted shaking fingers to the top button of her blouse, working it loose. She slowly managed to undo each one, until the garment hung open, revealing the red bra and white bandages beneath. She raised her eyes to Oliver's face, blowing out a shaky breath.

With a slight nod, Oliver set about his task. He carefully pulled up the edges of the white tape that held the bandage to her sternum, and peeled the entirety of it away from her skin. His jaw clenched, as his eyes traced over the wound, just off center, between her breasts.

"It's okay, Oliver." she assured him, though her voice was tight. She opened her legs, pulling him between them. Her fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, holding on, as she arched away from him, to give him a better angle at her sutures. "Go ahead."

He grabbed the scissors from the table, slipping them beneath each knot, and cutting through the thin, black thread. Swapping out the scissors for the pair of tweezers, he began gently easing each stitch from her skin. He noted the way her fists tightened, her knuckles digging into his sides, as her breathing became labored. His eyes remained fixed on her chest, afraid that if he saw the pain in her face he wouldn't be able to continue. Until, he heard the stifled sob that she tried to catch before it left her lips. His gaze shot to her face, but she slammed her eyes shut, shaking her head, as moisture trailed down her cheeks.

"Keep going." she insisted, her voice shaky, and strained.

He did as she asked, after a seconds hesitation. He removed the last few sutures, as delicately as he could. As soon as he finished, he threw the tweezers onto the table, and pulled her into his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. The second her skin touched his, she released the tight hold she'd struggled to keep on her tears, and let them fall freely. Oliver murmured softly to her, his thumb stroking over her hair, where his hand cupped the back of her head.

After several long minutes, and too many tears, Felicity pushed herself away from his chest, swiping fingers beneath her eyes. "Okay, we can go now." she muttered, avoiding his eyes, as she re-buttoned her top.

"Felicity." He said her name softly, but it still demanded her attention.

Reluctantly, she met his eyes. She saw the moisture pooled in them, evidence to the fact that he was struggling, too. In one, smooth, action, Oliver lifted her down from the table, encircling her in his arms. Her arms went around his ribs, and she let herself soak in the warmth he offered.

"Come on." he murmured. "Let's go home."

Oliver released her, to help her slip into her coat, before shrugging into his own. As she made to step away from him, he stopped her with a hand at her wrist.

She glanced up quizzically, before she smiled softly, remembering their deal. She took a step closer, lifting an arm to hook it around his neck. Oliver pressed a kiss to her lips, as he bent to sweep her off her feet. Grinning at the way her arm reflexively tightened around his neck, he settled her in his arms, tucked tightly to his chest, and made his way up the steel staircase.

"A girl could get used to this." she teased, her tone lighter than it had been, as she let her feet swing where they hung over his arm.

"A girl probably should." he informed her, as he pushed the door open with his hip, and stepped through. He was relieved to hear the hint of her playful mood return.

Felicity braced herself for him to put her down, but he made no move to do so. Instead, he pushed the door closed with his heel, making sure he heard the mechanical click, before heading for the exit.

"We agreed you'd carry me up and down the stairs, Oliver." she reminded him as he carried her through the mostly empty club. "No one said anything about carrying me to the car."

"Well, to be fair, you promised to keep your ass in your chair." he reasoned, smirking. "So, consider this your penalty for reneging on your part of our agreement."

Felicity rolled her eyes as Oliver stepped out into the chilly night air. "I did not _renege_ on anything." she argued, annoyance coloring her tone. "I promised to take it easy, and I did! Just because you want to pretend I'm made of glass, doesn't mean that I have to." She knew the words would sting, but her heightened emotions refused to let her care.

Oliver's smirk slipped, his face hardening just the slightest as he set her on her feet, beside his car. "I don't want to pretend you're made of glass, Felicity." His tone was heavy, his words sour against his tongue. "Is it so wrong for me to want to take care of you, after everything that's happened?"

"I'm not saying that!" Her words were sharp, edged with anger, as frustration got the better of her, and her already raw nerves. "I understand that you doting on me is your way of dealing with your guilt, but I'm not going to break, Oliver. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a hell of a lot tougher than I look."

Oliver scowled down at her, pissed that she thought he was trying to appease his guilt. "You honestly think that that's what this is about? My _guilt_?" He took a step closer, into her personal space, forcing her to step back. Her spine came flush with the side of his car and she had to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on his. His voice dropped, taking on the biting edge he only used when he was truly angry. "This is about _you, _Felicity! This about the fact that I almost lost you, without ever having told you how important you are to me! It's about knowing that you are stronger than anyone I've ever met, but you don't have to be strong, alone." His voice was rising, his temper flaring red in his eyes as he gripped her upper arms in his hands, squeezing to the point of pain. "I want to help you, to take care of you, because you deserve it after what you went through! I want to do everything I can to ease your pain, to take away some of the weight you have to carry, because that's what partners do! So, no, Felicity, this isn't about my guilt. This is about the fact that I am so in love with you, I can't even think straight half the time, and you almost _died_!"

Felicity's jaw was clenched, as she tried to force back the furious tears threatening to spill over. Her voice raised to meet his, and she stiffened her spine, trying to shake off his grip on her arms. He was pressed against her, so the shift in her stance caused her chest to push into his. "You think I don't know that? You think that it's somehow escaped my notice, how close I came to losing my life? Well, I have news for you, Oliver. It hasn't! I live with that knowledge, every day. I'm reminded of it, every time one of these stupid fucking scars so much as tingles! I can't even look in a mirror without seeing the proof, plastered across my body. And, then, there's the moments when I feel you looking at me, and I hate that all you see is the scars!"

The tears she'd tried to stop slipped down her cheeks, unchecked, as she lost the last bit of control she'd had over her ire. She shoved at Oliver's chest, trying to push him away, but he didn't budge. If anything, he moved closer still.

Oliver stared into her eyes, seeing the pain swirl just below the surface, as she fought to mask it with fury. He felt her dainty hands, rough against his pecs, trying to force him out of her space. Try as she might, he'd be damned if he was going to let her push him away, in any sense.

"I don't give a fuck about the scars, Felicity!" he growled, his hands moving of their own will, burying themselves into the hair at the nape of her neck. "When I look at you, I don't see them. I see what I've always seen. I see _you._"

With that, Oliver crushed his mouth to hers, every ounce of anger and irritation pouring from his lips and into her. He felt her tense, briefly, before she responded, plastering herself against him. Her hands slipped beneath the open front of his coat, bunching themselves into the fabric of his shirt, at his waist, pulling him tightly into her. Her tongue delved into the depths of his mouth, eagerly wrestling his for control of the kiss. He obliged, giving her the reigns, and succumbing to the velvet feel of her tongue stroking over his.

As her hips rolled against him, she gasped, pain shooting through her.

Oliver dragged his lips from hers, his eyes searching her face. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. "No, I did. I'm fine, though, really." Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "Don't you dare apologize." she ordered, her eyes narrowing.

A smile twitched on his lips, the last sparks of anger fading into nothing, as he held onto the words he'd been about to utter. Instead, he brushed his lips over hers, before stepping back to open the passenger side door.

"Come on. It's cold, and we're both tired." He motioned for her to lower herself into the seat, holding out a hand to assist her.

She took his offered hand, using it to guide her body down slowly, until she was settled against the leather of the passenger seat. Oliver closed the door, and came around to the driver's side, slipping in beside her.

"That's not always going to work, you know." Felicity informed him, shifting in the seat to angle her body towards him.

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting together in question.

"You kissing me to stop an argument."

He tried not to grin, but his lips turned up despite his efforts. "I'll keep that in mind."


	14. Fury In The Face Of Fear

**Author's note: So, this chapter took on a serious life of it's own. It's their world, I'm just writing it down. Angst _and_ frustrating sexy times, ahead :)**

* * *

Day six kicked off, full of promise.

Felicity woke up, completely surrounded by Oliver, his body wrapped around her like a blanket. His left leg was thrown over both of hers, pinning her beneath its weight. When she shifted, his leg, as well as his arms around her waist, tightened, pulling her closer. A broad grin spread across her face, and she allowed herself to snuggle deeper into his chest. Her nose nuzzled into his throat, and she inhaled the scent of his skin. She placed a warm, open mouthed kiss beside his Adam's apple, satisfaction running through at the sound of pure contentment that rumbled in his chest.

"Hey." she whispered, resting her forehead to his clavicle.

"Hey." he mumbled sleepily, without opening his eyes.

They laid together, enjoying the peaceful quiet that surrounded them. Oliver growled in annoyance when his alarm sounded a few minutes later, reminding him that he had to get ready for work.

"I wish you'd just let me take this time off." he grumbled, as he turned to reach for the alarm, silencing it with a touch of the screen.

"You're mother needs you at the office." she reminded him, burrowing back into his embrace when he returned to her.

"My mother is perfectly capable of running the company, while I enjoy a few days with you."

"Except you won't just enjoy them." she pointed out, her index finger tracing lazy patterns into his pecs. "You'll spend them fussing over me, and not even attempting to relax."

"You don't know that." He grinned, pressing a kiss to her crown before reluctantly sliding out of bed.

"I know it all too well." She flashed him a smile, as she watched him stride across the room, to his bathroom.

He winked at her, just before he shut the door behind him.

Felicity slipped out of bed, thankful to feel a little less stiffness in her muscles than she had for the last few days. The physical therapy session with Oliver seemed to be helping loosen the tightness in her hip, giving her more freedom of movement, with a lot less pain. She stretched her arms above her head, arching her spine, and grinning when she barely felt the tug of the last set of stitches in her lower back. She made a mental note to have Oliver remove them before he left for work.

She busied herself finding clothes for the day, shuffling through the dresser he'd had brought in for her. It hit her suddenly, how casually that development had come about. Like most other changes in their relationship, there hadn't been a big discussion about it. It just seemed like the logical thing to do, for her to have her own bureau. Glancing around her, she realized how much of her stuff was scattered around his room. They were expected things, but they lent themselves to a distinct feel of domesticity. Like, her slippers next to his bed, her robe thrown over a chair nearby, a few of her books sitting on the nightstand, beside her glasses and her cellphone. Her tablet was plugged into the wall, laying on top of her dresser, and her purse was perched right next to it.

Felicity felt the flutter in her stomach at the realization that they were practically living together. While it was true that before her ordeal they'd spent almost every night together, they'd been careful to keep each others space free of their own clutter. They'd never brought more than a change of clothes, and something to sleep in, when they'd spent the night at the others place. But, like everything else about their relationship, that had changed without either of them noticing.

"You okay?" Oliver's voice came from the other side of the room, startling Felicity from her thoughts.

She glanced up, her heart stuttering in her chest at the sight of him. He stood just outside the bathroom door, a towel draped low around his hips, water droplets still clinging to his torso, his arrowhead hanging dead center. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to nod.

"You sure?" He started moving toward her. "You look a little flushed."

"When don't I?" She managed to tease, her voice coming out a little breathless.

Her eyes fell to rake over his mostly naked body, heat flooding through her at the sight of his abs, glistening with moisture. Suddenly, her tongue ached to lap at those hard planes, to taste the water that was slipping ever lower. Her eyes followed a single drop's trail as it descended from his navel, inching its way down to where the towel was knotted in the center of his Adonis Belt.

"If you expect me to leave this room, at any point today, you need to stop looking at me like that." Oliver informed her, his voice low and husky.

Felicity's eyes snapped up. "I thought you loved it when I ogled you?" She tried to keep her tone light, but found that it came out rather suggestively.

"Oh, I do." he assured her, coming to a halt less than six inches away from where she stood. "However, I seem to be having a hard time keeping my hands to myself, as it is. You looking at me, like that, is doing little to help me achieve that goal."

"It was your choice to take the hands off approach, remember?" she prodded, taking a tiny step closer to him.

"Because, it's what's best for you." Oliver let his eyes drop, skimming over the bare expanse of her legs, peeking out from beneath one of his t-shirts. "Even if it is testing the limits of my restraint."

A shudder ran through her, and she took another step, closing the barely existent distance between them. She lifted a hand, letting her middle finger trace the outline of his Bratva tattoo. "And here I thought you were the poster boy for self control."

"It would appear that that only applies to the criminal element." Oliver told her. "It apparently does _not_ apply to gorgeous, blonde, IT girls who are currently standing in my bedroom, rocking nothing but my t-shirt, and sex hair."

"This is sleep hair, not sex hair." Felicity clarified, trying to ignore the way her heart knocked against her ribcage.

"Close enough." he growled, his hands coming to rest low on her hips.

"The making of sex hair is much more fun." she purred, letting herself melt into his chest, keeping her eyes locked on his.

Oliver stared at her, in wonder. Her blue eyes shined with everything he'd ever wanted to see in them, her absolute love for him sparkling, front and center. "Have I told you lately how utterly amazing you are?" he asked, his thumbs stroking tight circles into the soft flesh at the tops of her thighs.

Felicity smiled softly. "If I say no, will you tell me again?"

"I'll never stop telling you." he promised.

He bent to press his lips to hers, but stalled when a loud knock sounded at the door.

"Ollie, Digg is here!" Thea called from the hallway.

Sighing, Oliver kissed Felicity quickly and then pulled away, making his way to his closet, to get dressed.

"I'll go downstairs and say good morning." Felicity informed him, slipping into a pair of sweatpants from her dresser drawer. As the fabric of the pants slid over her waist, it caught on the last set of stitches along her back.

"Wait!" she called, stopping Oliver in his tracks. He turned, finding her with her sweats slung low, the curve of her ass just visible over the waistband, and her shirt pulled up to her ribs. She had her back turned to him, but she looked over her shoulder in his direction. "Will you take out these stitches before you leave?"

Oliver grinned at her position, wondering if she knew just how deliciously tempting she looked in that moment. "Sure. Come into the bathroom."

Felicity did as she was told, following him into the steamy interior of the large bathroom. She watched him dig through a drawer, coming up with a pair of cuticle scissors and a set of tweezers. He exited the bathroom, reentering a few seconds later with a lighter. Oliver ran the metal utensils through the flame, while Felicity's eyes followed his movements. There was something ridiculously sexy about the way he looked, draped in nothing but a towel and his arrowhead, while he concentrated on disinfecting the tools.

Having finished his task, he lifted his gaze to hers. "Pull up your shirt, and bend over the counter." he instructed.

Felicity tried to smother the smirk that threatened to touch her lips, at his orders, as well as the coil of heat that unfurled low in her belly. She did as he bid, bunching her shirt up beneath her breasts, and bending forward, resting on her elbows.

Oliver inhaled deeply, trying to settle the beast that had risen in his chest. He couldn't help the way his eyes swept over her bare back, following the dip of her spine and lingering on the perfect roundness of her ass. Shaking his head to refocus on his task, he stepped closer.

She could feel the warmth of his skin as he sidled up behind her, his rough hand coming to rest against the bare skin of her waist. Her breath hitched when his finger hooked into the waistband of her sweats, sliding them down an inch or two, away from the wound he was trying to get to. She stilled, not daring to so much as breathe again, until the soft thwick of scissors cutting through sutures reached her ears.

"Okay, I'm going to pull them out. It shouldn't hurt, but if it does, tell me." Oliver advised her, just as he had when he'd removed the other sets of stitches, the night before, at the Foundry.

Felicity nodded her understanding, not trusting her voice. She couldn't concentrate on what he was doing with one hand, while the other was spread over her hip, his thumb stroking in what, she guessed, was supposed to be a calming manner, though it only served to stoke the flame of desire in her gut. When his fingers tightened a few minutes later, digging lightly into her flesh, her heartbeat stuttered.

Oliver leaned over her, his front pressed flush against her back. His hand grazed up the curve of her side, as he leaned down, his mouth centimeters from her ear. "Done." he whispered, sending a shiver through her.

Felicity straightened, her eyes drooping closed when he moved with her, but didn't step back. Instead, his left arm snaked around her middle, dragging her tightly against him. Oliver used his right hand to sweep her hair off of her neck, before he lowered his mouth to her skin. His lips trailed the length of her neck, from ear to shoulder, eliciting the softest of mewls from her throat.

"John's waiting for you." Felicity breathed, at the exact moment her hand found his thigh, where it was pressed against the back of her own. Her fingers glided over the plush cotton of his towel, feeling his muscles bunch and tighten beneath it.

"Let him wait." Oliver murmured, dropping his hands to cup the tops of her thighs, applying pressure at the perfect angle so that her pelvis tilted, thrusting her ass back, at the same time he ground his hips into her.

Felicity couldn't contain the throaty moan that escaped her lips at the feel of his erection against her backside. Her left arm lifted, snaking around his neck, as his teeth found her earlobe, nipping gently. Using him as leverage, she arced her back, swiveling her hips. She was rewarded with a deep rumble that vibrated in his chest.

Oliver let his hand slip lower over her belly, dipping one finger beneath the waist of her sweats and running the width of her hips, careful to avoid the bandages on either side. He released her earlobe, his teeth finding the sensitive area at the curve of her neck, and sinking in.

She gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder. "Oliver?" she moaned.

"Hmmm?" he hummed, his tongue slipping out the soothe the sting.

"If we don't stop now, we're not stopping." She rolled her hips again, to punctuate her point.

Oliver slipped another two digits beneath the waist of her pants, as his right hand came up to tangle in her hair, tugging gently. "Oh, I hadn't planned on stopping."

"But... You said-" Oliver cut her off by rocking his hips forward, his cock digging into the small of her back.

"I said that I wouldn't make love to you while you were healing, and I meant it." He explained, his words murmured against her skin as his nose nuzzled her neck. "Lucky for you, Felicity, I don't have to make love to you, to get you off." As if to demonstrate his point, Oliver dipped the rest of his hand into her sweats, cupping her through the thin fabric of her panties.

Felicity writhed in his arms, a soft moan shuddering out of her, as her body sought friction, without her mind having any say in the matter.

Oliver traced a finger along the edge of her panties, where they laid over the apex of her thighs. "Is that what you want, Felicity?" he rasped. "Do you want me to make you come?" His finger lifted the edge of her panties, slipping beneath and ghosting over her core.

She growled in frustration, her nails biting into the back of his neck. Did she want him to touch her, to make her come apart in his arms? Hell yes, she did. But, she wanted him to come with her. They'd been waiting so long to be together, she wanted the first time they unraveled, to be together.

Gritting her teeth, and repeating that thought in her mind, she forced herself to shake her head. "No." she told him, making herself turn in his arms so she could meet his eyes. "I don't."

Confusion flashed in Oliver's orbs, already dark with desire. His pupils were blown, but she could clearly read the doubt in them.

"I want the first time to be _our_ first time." she clarified, wanting to clear that look from his face. "I can wait a little longer, if it means that I get to have you, when you get to have me."

A slow smile spread over Oliver's face, chasing the remnants of doubt from his eyes. He dipped his head to press a searing kiss to her lips. His arms came around her, his hands linking together in the small of her back.

"Utterly amazing." He smiled down at her, relishing the way she looked at him adoringly.

"You know, I think I've heard that somewhere, recently."

* * *

Glancing at his watch, Oliver huffed in frustration with his temporary assistant. He had been in his office for most of the morning, going over the budget, signing off on staff reviews, and fielding phone calls from investors. He'd left instructions with Leena to come get him at precisely noon, because he wanted to get home before Detective Lance arrived for his meeting with Felicity at one o'clock.

At ten to one, Oliver's phone buzzed, Diggle's photo announcing his call.

"What is it?" Oliver answered, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continued to pour over paperwork.

"Where are you?" Digg asked, his tone sharp.

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm at the office, where you left me."

"Did you forget about Felicity's appointment with Lance?"

"Of course not." Oliver bit out, his hand coming up to hold his phone as he straightened his neck. "I'm leaving at noon."

"Oliver, it's almost one o'clock." Diggle sighed in exasperation. "Felicity is pacing the living room. I'm pretty sure she's chewed off almost all of her nail polish."

"Shit." Oliver growled. "I'm on my way."

He rushed from the office, to find Leena at Felicity's desk, her fingers tapping sluggishly over the keyboard.

"Leena!" he half shouted, when she didn't look up from the screen at his approach. She jumped at the sound of his voice, lifting wary eyes to his. "Did you forget something?"

She looked surprised for a moment before recognition crossed her face. "Oh my God, Mr. Queen. I am so sorry! I was working on typing up that proposal for Vilaggio, I must've lost track of time."

Without another word, Oliver turned on his heel, heading for the elevator, to rush outside for a cab. He'd found the cab, easily enough, but they were quickly surrounded by lunch hour traffic, and were currently sitting immobile, at least fifteen minutes away from the mansion.

Oliver tried dialing Felicity, his gut clenching when she didn't answer. She must be truly pissed if she wasn't answering his calls. Roughly, he shoved his phone into his jacket pocket, letting his head fall back against the cab's seat. He attempted deep breaths, trying to calm his agitation before he got worked up to the point of no return. If he let himself, he could slip into Arrow mode, and they'd all be worse for it.

With another urgent glance at the time, he noted that it was already one, and Felicity would be facing Lance on her own, any second. Not entirely alone, he reminded himself. Diggle was there for support, if she needed it. It wasn't the same, though, and he knew it. She'd been counting on Oliver to be there, to hold her hand as she relived the worst experience of her life, in excruciating detail, once again.

And, he had majorly fucked up.

At half past one, Oliver hurried through the front door, making a beeline straight for the living room, where he knew the meeting was taking place. He came around the corner to find Detective Lance sitting with his back to the doorway, Diggle standing protectively behind the sofa across from him. Oliver's eyes fell on the only blonde in the room, and his heart sank.

Felicity sat stiffly in the center of the white couch, her hands knotted so tightly in her lap, her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and wet trails lined her pale cheeks. From the rigid set of her shoulders, Oliver could tell she was struggling, collapsing under the weight of this interview.

She must have sensed him, because her gaze lifted, finding his instantly. The sheer amount of pain in her swirling blue depths was enough to knock the wind from his lungs. The absolute despair that possessed her had Oliver moving closer, before he was halted by the vacuity he could feel emanating from her, even from his distance.

Lance swiveled around in his seat to follow her line of sight. When his eyes found Oliver he gave a quick nod of recognition, then resumed his previous position, hunched toward Felicity.

Oliver met Digg's eyes over their heads, silently asking the question he could clearly see the answer to. Digg offered a slight shake of his head, the expression on his face telling Oliver that he'd read the situation correctly.

"Felicity," Lance was saying, "I know that this must be difficult, but I promise you, we're almost done."

Ignoring his brain, and acting on instinct, Oliver commanded his legs to carry him to where Felicity was sitting, her muscles straining with the fatigue of keeping herself still, when her body wanted nothing more than to shake. He sank down beside her, feeling the tension roll of of her, as she determinedly refused to even glance in his direction.

Knowing she was well beyond pissed, and probably more than halfway to furious, did little to stop him from reaching out and clasping both of her entwined hands in one of his. If possible, she stiffened further, but she didn't pull away.

"Do you know why The Count targeted you?" Lance asked, pen poised over his notebook to jot down her response.

When she spoke, Oliver was shocked to hear the cold, empty quality her voice held. It was almost frigid, devoid of anything that made her who she was.

"He knows... _knew_, of my connection to The Arrow." she told him, hollowly. "I think he was trying to use me to hurt him. After the last time, he knew that The Arrow would come looking, if he took me."

"We know The Arrow wasn't alone, at the brewery. Did you see anything, anyone else?" Lance had to ask her, though he knew she'd never tell him, even if she had seen something.

"I was already unconscious. The last thing I remember, before waking up in the hospital, is being tied to a chair in a pitch black room, and having a hot, metal, rod shoved into my hip." Her words should have rang with emotion: Fear, anger, vitriol... But, they didn't. They echoed cavernously, nothing but vacant statements.

Lance flinched, as did Diggle. The harsh truth, stated so frostily, was something neither of them had been prepared for. Oliver, on the other hand, knew this dance. He knew that she was detaching herself from the memories, in order to survive them. She was focusing on keeping herself distant, rather than letting the memories engulf her. He was intimately acquainted with the technique, having used it himself, on many occasions.

"Detective, surely you have everything you need." Oliver beseeched, his voice carefully clipped.

Lance shifted eyes to him, before nodding. "Just one more question." He returned his gaze to Felicity. "Commissioner Wilhelm was attacked in his office, by The Arrow, the day before your rescue. I'd be willing to bet that, at the time, he was focusing all of his efforts on finding you. Any idea how the Commissioner of the Starling City police department factors into that?"

"I wouldn't know." Felicity replied, stiffly.

Detective Lance regarded her intently, before shaking his head, and flipping his notebook closed. As he rose from the couch, Oliver did the same, ushering him toward the foyer. Oliver opened the door, and followed the detective outside.

"This is over, as of now. Correct?" He posed the question, leaving little room for argument.

"I'd rather not have even had to do that." Lance jerked his head toward the house. "That poor girl has been through more than enough, for several lifetimes."

Oliver nodded his thanks, shaking Lance's hand, before letting himself back into the house. He headed straight for Felicity, only to find her seat vacated. Diggle stood with his back to the room, staring out the window, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Where is she?" Oliver inquired, his tone sharper than he'd intended.

Digg turned, leveling him with a look he couldn't quite decipher. "She tore out of here before you even closed the door." Oliver made to head out of the room, for the second floor, but Digg stopped him. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you. Not right now, at least."

"I can't just let her go, John." Oliver argued. "Did you see her? She's on a dangerous ledge."

"Oliver, I've been here all morning." Digge informed him. "I've done nothing _but _see her. And, I'm telling you, give it a little while. You going up there, right now, isn't going to end well. Let her calm down, and get her head straight."

"I can't leave this alone, Digg. I can't leave _her_ alone, not like this." Oliver shook his head, once again heading for the stairs.

Digg could only sigh in frustration, as he watched Oliver go.

Oliver quickly reached the top of the stairs, moving in haste to reach the bedroom. The door was closed, but he knew she was inside. He knew it was the only place she felt completely safe, in this house. His office/library was a close second, but he didn't think she'd go there in her current state. Easing the door open, he found the room drenched in light, the curtains thrown wide, sunlight spilling in from every window.

Felicity sat in the middle of the floor, curled in on herself, with her knees pressed to her chest. Her arms were thrown over her head, almost as though she were trying to shield herself. Oliver could hear the sobs wrenching from her chest, see them, as they shook her delicate frame. Her face was burrowed into her knees, her hands buried in her blonde locks.

He moved toward her slowly, clearing his throat to let her know he was there. She didn't indicate that she heard him, so he tried calling her name, softly.

Again, she gave no acknowledgment, but Oliver could have sworn her sobs increased. He crouched down beside her, waiting for her to raise her head. When several long moments passed, with only her heart-crushing sobs filling the room, Oliver readjusted, sitting beside her, and tucking his feet under him. He made no move to touch her, knowing she'd recoil. Instead, he kept silent, pinning his hands beneath his legs, and simply watched her.

After almost ten minutes, she broke the silence, without lifting her head. "Where were you?" Her tone was still too empty for his liking, though it now held the thickness of tears.

"I'm so sorry, Felicity." He didn't know what to say, to make any of this better, so he went with the truth. "I had a lot to get through this morning, and I asked Leena to come get me at noon, so that I could be here before Lance, but she forgot. By the time Digg called, it was almost one."

With unfailing accuracy, Felicity zeroed in on the only part of his explanation she didn't understand. She finally lifted her head. The fire raging in her eyes should have been his first warning. "Leena?"

Oliver froze, as the realization hit him. He hadn't mentioned Leena to Felicity. Not after the discussion he and Diggle had about Felicity feeling insecure since her ordeal. He hadn't wanted to add anymore upset to her life, wanting instead, to be her solace.

"She's your fill-in." Oliver tried to explain. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. After the conversation with Diggle, one would have thought he'd have found a better term for Leena. One that wouldn't make Felicity look at him like he was suddenly someone she didn't recognize.

"My _fill-in_?" Felicity mocked, her tone unbearably icy. She chuckled, but the sound was all wrong, harsh and grating in his ears. "You weren't here, for one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, because you were at your office with my _fill-in_?"

Oliver cringed as the implication of her words slammed into him. "Don't say it like that."

"How should I say it, Oliver?" she demanded, her voice remaining eerily even, though Oliver could feel the fury boiling under the surface. "Would you prefer the word _replacement_?"

"Felicity, she's not your replacement." Oliver tried to calm her. "She's a temp, who is abysmal at the job. I only hired her to help out, until you're ready to come back. She's a social climber, who's more focused on landing a whale, than advancing her career."

Felicity stared him down, her eyes blazing like wildfire. "So, let me get this straight." she said, hostility lacing its way into her words. "You hired a temporary replacement, to do _my _job, and do it poorly. And, she just happens to be on the look out for a rich husband to pay for the next forty years of plastic surgery?"

The venom in her tone actually had Oliver flinching. He'd never seen Felicity in this state. He normally loved watching her when she was angry, found it fascinating and highly erotic, but _this_? This was something else entirely. She was cold, livid, yet detached, and for once in their lives, it was all directed at him.

"I wonder what her qualifications were..." Felicity practically sneered, rising from the floor to pace away. "Let me guess. Tall, brunette, gorgeous, built like a swim suit model? Am I close?"

Oliver held his tongue, knowing that any answer he gave would be wrong. He knew that she was trying to hold onto her fury, instead of giving into her fear, and the pain that came with it. She was grasping at anything, holding on for dear life, trying to avoid the chasm that could swallow her at any second.

She needed a target. He could do that. He could be that, for her.

"I'm sorry, Felicity." Oliver said, gently. "I should have been here. I wanted to be here."

"That's supposed to mean what, exactly?" she asked, bitterly. "I'm just supposed to forgive you for abandoning me, when I needed you the most? Am I supposed to understand, and not be pissed the fuck off, because you couldn't be bothered to show up until it was almost over? I was sure that you would come, Oliver! That you would be there, because I needed you!"

As her words resonated in his head, a sudden, sickening, thought struck him. "Felicity, are we talking about today?" He watched her pale, her eyes widening. "Are we taking about today, and what happened with Lance? Or, are we talking about what happened with him?" Oliver didn't have to say the name. They both knew who he referred to.

Felicity gaped at him. He could see the panic rise in her eyes, the fear clawing its way up her spine. Oliver moved toward her, a half a step at a time.

"Oh, God... Oliver..." She began to crumble, her body giving out under the strain, as her knees buckled. "I didn't... I..."

She was gasping for air, as his arms slid around her, hauling her against his chest. He supported her weight, his hand coming up to cradle her head to his neck. Her entire body shook, tremors tearing through her limbs as she struggled to breathe.

"Felicity, listen to me." Oliver urged, pulling back to meet her eyes. She stared back at him, her eyes haunted and wild, but unfocused. "Listen to my voice. I've got you. I'm right here. You're safe, with me, in our bedroom. You're okay... _We're _okay."

Her fingers knotted into the fabric of his jacket, as she pulled herself against him, almost as if she were trying to crawl into him.

"Breathe, Felicity!" he commanded her, once again cradling her to his chest. "Just breathe."

The way her body trembled in his arms, scared the living hell out of him. She couldn't seem to draw in air, her body seized with the panic that had overtaken her. He'd seen panic attacks before, hell he'd had them himself, but this was something, all together, different. She was sweating, though her skin felt icy to the touch. Her pulse was skipping, seemingly unable to settle on a rhythm, racing one second, and then stalling the next. Her limbs seemed to be beyond her control, as she sagged against him, every ounce of energy sapping out of her, save for the convulsions that racked her body.

Oliver leaned her back, to find her eyes closed, and her lips tinged with blue. His gut clenched, as he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her across the room to lay her out over the bed. He raced to the door, throwing it open and bellowing down the hall. Shooting back to her side, he lifted Felicity's hand, clasping it in his.

Within seconds, he heard Digg's heavy, running footsteps, thundering outside his door.

"What's happened?" he barked as he barreled into the room, his gaze finding Felicity's quaking form. He surged forward, finding the pulse point at her wrist.

"I think she's in shock." Oliver explained in a rush, his brain a snarl of worry. "It started as a panic attack, but she passed out."

Digg ran to the bathroom, hauling the Arrow-specific first aid kit back with him. He emptied its contents onto the floor, finding the syringe he was looking for. With quick movements, he had her sleeve pushed up, and the needle piercing her skin.

"What is that?" Oliver asked, desperate for something, anything, else to focus on.

"Ativan." Diggle informed him. "It should stop the seizure."

Oliver nodded his understanding, collapsing onto the bed next to her. He could feel the shaking slowly subside, only the occasional tremor rippling through her. She was still scarily pale, but her pulse was evening out and she was breathing at a steadier pace.

"She'll be out for a while." Digg sighed. Rounding on Oliver, he fixed him with a glare. "Damn it, Oliver, I told you to leave this alone!" His voice held the over-protective, big brother quality that it often held when he thought Oliver wasn't doing right by her.

"You were wrong." Oliver argued softly, not releasing her hand. "She needs to face this, to deal with it. Holding it in is tearing her apart, John."

"When did you become an advocate for facing down your demons?" Diggle challenged.

"Since I realized that my demons are hers, and hers are mine." Oliver met his friend's eyes, urging him to understand. "Felicity is the only person who looks at me and sees beyond the darkness, beyond the damage. She doesn't waver when confronted by the worst parts of me, she just weathers the storm. And, somehow, it doesn't ever change the way she feels about me, the way she looks at me. Even when I'm terrible to her, and I do things that hurt her, she stands by me."

Diggle didn't respond. He simply stared at Oliver, waiting for him to continue.

"I want to be that person for her, Digg." Oliver stated, with conviction. "I want to be the man she sees, the man she loves. I _need_ to be, because otherwise, I'll never deserve her." He paused, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Right now, she's waging a war with her own demons, and it's a battle that I understand. She refuses to let me hide from myself, or to turn a blind eye to the things that hurt. I have to do the same for her."

"I understand where you're coming from, man, but you have to understand something." Diggle informed him, seriously. "You've had eight years to deal with your shit. She's had less than a week."

"I spent the first half of those eight years running from myself." Oliver reminded him. "I won't let her run."

"Just take it easy on her." Diggle implored him, his eyes falling on the, now still, blonde. "She's been to hell and back."

* * *

Dark had fallen over the Queen mansion, bringing with it the heavy weight of anxiety, filling Oliver's chest. He'd spent most of the day in his bedroom, sitting beside Felicity, waiting for her to come back to him. He was reminded of the days he spent in the hospital, with her, fearing the worst.

Roy and Thea had taken turns throughout the day, coming to check on them. Thea tried to convince Oliver to eat, but he refused. His stomach was so tied up in knots, he doubted he'd even be able to keep anything solid down. Diggle had left Felicity in Oliver's hands, and gone home to Lyla, before the sun had gone down. Roy had taken Thea to the club a little past seven, to get ready for the night. Moira was on an overnight business trip to Bludhaven, and Raisa had the day off, leaving the house eerily quiet.

With a groan of frustration, Oliver forced himself to leave Felicity's side, to make his way to the kitchen, thinking that maybe a cup of chamomile tea would settle his stomach, and calm his nerves.

It was something that Felicity had introduced him to, the many useful effects of different kinds of tea. He could clearly remember her bringing him a mug, his first bout with the common cold, after his return from the island. She'd taken such good care of him, that week, keeping him warm under a pile of blankets on her sofa, making him chicken soup the way she'd learned from her grandmother, and supplying him with a steady stream of peppermint and chamomile tea. He'd been almost sad when he'd gotten over the cold, having to leave the bubble of comfort she'd created around them.

Smiling softly at the memory, he puttered around, setting water to boil and dropping a tea bag into a mug. When the kettle whistled, he poured the water over the bag, added a dash of cream, and made his way around the island. Sliding onto a stool, Oliver wrapped a hand around the mug, soaking in the warmth it radiated, while the other dragged the arrowhead from under his shirt, twisting it in his fingers. He inhaled the steam wafting from the tea's surface, letting it seep into his senses.

His mind wandered, replaying the accusation she'd thrown at him that afternoon.

"_That's supposed to mean what, exactly?" _She'd questioned, her words devastating in their frosty evenness._ "I'm just supposed to forgive you for abandoning me, when I needed you the most? Am I supposed to understand, and not be pissed the fuck off, because you couldn't be bothered to show up until it was almost over? I was sure that you would come, Oliver! That you would be there, because I needed you!"_

In that moment, he'd felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Never, in their seven years together, had she thrown his guilt in his face, wielded it like a weapon against him. She was always the one trying to convince him that he wasn't responsible for every terrible thing that happened in Starling City, or in their lives in general. She was quick to reassure him that his guilt was misplaced, that he was a hero and that no one blamed him.

Except, this time, _she_ did. That fact was glaringly obvious in the way she'd hurled the words at him, more torn and broken than he'd ever seen her.

Oliver tried to convince himself that she was just lashing out, striking at the easiest target, in order to keep a hold of her anger, instead of succumbing to the pain. He reminded himself that he'd done the same, in the past. She didn't really blame him, he told himself.

Just as Oliver set his empty mug in the kitchen sink, a piercing shriek shattered the silence. The unmistakable terror in the sound is what had him racing for the stairs, sprinting up them, three at a time. He flew down the hallway, bursting through the door of the bedroom. He'd left the bedside lamp on, knowing that she'd been sensitive to darkness since her ordeal. The bed was bathed in light, illuminating Felicity's body as it arced off the mattress, another horrific scream ripping its way up her throat.

He reached her in a few long strides, kneeling beside her on the bed, his hands gripping her shoulders as he called to her. "Felicity!" He gave her a not-so-gentle shake, as she whimpered. "Wake up!"

Her eyes flashed open, a sharp gasp shuddering through her. It took her a few seconds to clear her vision, and she blinked rapidly as she struggled to see through the tears that pooled in her eyes. When the sight of Oliver's face swam into focus, she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck like a vice.

"Oliver." She wept, her face buried in his neck.

"Shh shh shh..." he soothed, stroking a hand over her hair, as his other arm banded around her waist, holding her to his chest. "I've got you."

He pressed delicate kisses to her temple, whispering words of comfort as she trembled in his embrace. He held her for a long time, rocking her lightly, until the shaking lessened.

"I'm so sorry." she mumbled against his throat.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Felicity." he whispered.

"Yes, I do." She sniffled. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't blame you for any of this, Oliver. I need you to know that."

"I do." he told her, easing her back and taking her face in his hands. Blue bored into blue, as he tried to convince her. "I understand why you said it, and it's okay. We're okay."

"It's not okay!" Her eyes flooded with fresh tears. "I had no right to do that to you, Oliver, to say any of those things. You didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry that I hurt you. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do."

"Felicity, you had every right to be angry with me. I fucked up, and I wasn't here when you needed me. I let you down... I can't promise that I'll never screw up, again. But," He pressed his forehead to hers, both of them closing their eyes at the contact. "I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to prevent it."

Felicity was quiet, letting his words wash over her, finding comfort in the way his breath mingled with hers.

"Oliver..." She knew what she wanted to say, but the words got stuck in her throat. She'd seen the flash of despair in his eyes when she'd accused him of not coming for her, and she hated herself for it. She had to let him know that she still saw him, just as she always had. She had to reassure him that he was still everything to her. "You're still my hero." she whispered, her fist closing around the arrowhead hanging in the center of his chest.

Oliver tightened his closed lids, her words sending a ripple of pride through him. The knot of anxiety that had formed behind his heart, eased its grip. He pulled back to see her face, his chest constricting at the expression she wore. She looked so guilty, her eyes wide and pained. He was struck by an idea, hoping to put some glitter back in their blue depths.

"Hey." he murmured, stroking a thumb along her jaw. "Come with me?"

"Anywhere." she vowed, immediately.

Smiling softly, Oliver stood up, and offered her his hand. Felicity snagged her glasses from the nightstand, sliding them on, before she slipped her small fingers into his palm, letting him lead her from the room. He turned down the hallway, guiding her along beside him. When they reached his study, he pushed open the door, letting her step into the room. Shutting the door behind him, he pulled her toward his desk. Felicity squeaked in surprise when he lifted her by her waist, settling her on the corner of his desk with a grin.

"You would think you'd be used to that, by now." Oliver teased, as he sat down in his chair, spinning it toward the opposite side of the desk.

Felicity watched him reach into the back of the top drawer, and withdraw a long black box. She arched a brow in question, but he only offered her a grin in return.

"I don't know if right now is the best time to do this, but since I should have done it weeks ago, I'm not waiting any longer." He lifted the box, presenting it to her, with one hand poised at the seam, to open it. "When you gave me my arrowhead, you told me that in the face of unimaginable trials, we always manage to come out stronger on the other side. You said that there was nothing we couldn't get through, as long as we fought together. Do you still believe that?"

"Yes." Felicity nodded. "Of course, I do."

"Good." Oliver's grin widened, his eyes apprehensive, but excited. "Because, an arrow is nothing..." He lifted the lid of the box, and Felicity's mouth fell open, an astonished gasp escaping her lips before her hand could reach up to catch it. "...without its bow."

Inside the box, lain out across a bed of white silk, sat a gold chain, much like the one Oliver's arrowhead pendant hung from. But, instead of an arrowhead, dangling from the chain was a delicate golden bow. It was beautifully curved, and the bowstring was made up of a line of tiny, exquisitely sparkling emeralds.

"Oliver..." Felicity breathed. "It's beautiful." She reached out, tracing a shaking finger over the double arc of the bow.

Oliver rose, removing the necklace from its box. He lifted it over her head, draping it around her neck, and tugging her hair free. Felicity looked down, to find the pendant nestled in the valley of her breasts, just to the right of the scar over her heart. Her eyes clouded with moisture, at the juxtaposition of something so beautiful, that filled her with joy, sitting beside something that had caused her so much pain.

"I don't know what to say." she whispered, lifting her eyes to his, a brittle smile playing at her lips.

Oliver swiped his thumbs under her eyes, catching the drops that fell. "You don't have to say anything."

He dipped his head, slowly, giving her time to pull away. Instead, she leaned forward, meeting him halfway, and molding her lips to his. The kiss was tentative, more reserved than the ones they'd been sharing over the previous few days, but no less meaningful.

When Felicity eased back, Oliver was thrilled to see a bit of light had returned to her eyes.

"Thank you." She lifted a hand to glide it over the rough stubble covering his cheek, her tone tender.

"Always." he promised, turning his face to nudge a gentle kiss to her palm.

Oliver walked her back to the bedroom, her body tucked snugly to his side, a few minutes later. Felicity was exhausted, despite her impromptu, six hour, nap. Her body felt sluggish, slow to respond to her orders. She found her feet dragging as she walked, and she was thankful that Oliver was supporting a good portion of her weight.

"Why don't you put on some pajamas, and meet me in bed?" Oliver suggested, though his tone didn't really leave room for her to argue. Not that she had the energy to bother, anyway.

Felicity simply nodded, as they stepped into the bedroom. She went to Oliver's dresser, searching through a drawer until she found a gray t-shirt. She stripped off black dress pants, and the peach colored sweater she wore, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. Her pink bra followed quickly, and then she was clad in only his t-shirt and a pair of panties. She trudged over to the bed, her feet heavy beneath her. Lifting the down comforter, she slipped between the sheets, and was immediately engulfed by his earthy scent, mixed with just a hint of leather. The smell comforted her more than anything else, and she found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

Oliver stepped out of the bathroom a minute later, in just his boxers, smirking at the lump under the covers, that was Felicity. He crawled in beside her, sliding down so that he could see her face.

"Felicity." he called, softly. Her eyes blinked open, finding his face, and a smile turned up one corner of her mouth. "Do you want me to leave the light on?" he asked.

"No, s'okay." she mumbled, reaching out for him, her fingertips brushing his chest. "'Ve got you."

He couldn't help the smile that split his face. Sleepy, mumbling, Felicity was beyond adorable. He reached behind him to click off the light, plunging the room into darkness. As soon as the shadows fell, Felicity became a little more alert, slipping an arm around Oliver's ribs, and pulling herself closer. She burrowed into his chest, as his arms wrapped around her, anchoring her body to his.

"I'm right here." he soothed, kissing the crown of her head.

Her right leg slid between his, as she sought more contact.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Oliver offered, hoping that if she talked about it, she might feel better.

"About what?" Felicity tried for avoidance.

Oliver wasn't letting her off that easily. "Your nightmare."

She sighed heavily, knowing that there was no way he was going to let it go, if it was still bothering her. "It wasn't so much a nightmare, as a memory." she explained, tucking her chin toward her chest, avoiding his eyes. "It's the same memory, over and over again."

Oliver was quiet, trailing a hand over her arm, as he waited for her to elaborate.

Just as he began to think she'd fallen asleep, she spoke. "In that room..." She shuddered. "It was just darkness and pain. The only light I saw, for four days, was what managed to seep in from under the door. It was suffocating." She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "When he promised to cut my heart out, I can remember seeing that little bit of light reflect off the knife, when he moved toward me. Throughout the whole experience, that was the only time I was truly convinced I was going to die."

Oliver's arms tightened around her, as he felt tears burn against his chest.

"The entire time, I _knew_ that you would come, that you would find me, and everything would be okay." Her fingers dug into his side, her body filling with tension. "But, for just a split second, I thought I was dead. I thought that it was all over, and I'd never see beyond the darkness."

"That's what you dreamt about?" Oliver asked, his voice quiet.

"It's what I always dream about, now." she confessed, pressing her face into his warmth, a hiccup of air stuttering in her chest.

"In the brewery... I've never heard you scream like that." Oliver whispered, his throat tight. "Then, tonight, I heard it again, and I was terrified. I didn't know you'd been living through that, every night."

His admission made her ache. "Usually, I can force myself awake before it gets too bad. This time, I just couldn't get out. But, then, I heard your voice. I felt you holding on to me, and I knew I was safe."

"I've spent the last five years holding onto you, Felicity." Oliver murmured. "I'm not about to let that change. Not now, not ever."

He felt her smile, as she shifted slightly, to press her lips to his throat. Her words vibrated through him, her breath hot as it washed over his skin.

"You'd better not."


	15. A Proper Send Off

**Author's note: Have I mentioned, lately, how much I adore you guys? Because, seriously, you make me so proud to be a part of this fandom! **

**Enjoy this bit of fluff and cuteness!**

* * *

Day eight was quiet. At least, it started out that way.

Diggle descended the stairs, into the lair, earlier in the evening, with Lyla at his side. "Anybody here?" he called out, as they reached the bottom step.

"Over here." Oliver called back, his voice tight.

Glancing quizzically at his wife, who shrugged back, Digg turned around the corner, facing the training mats, and groaned. "Seriously, guys?"

Lyla burst into a fit of laughter, holding one hand over her belly, rounder than it had been the last time they'd seen her.

"It's physical therapy." Felicity rolled her eyes, shifting her head, where it lay on the mat, so she could smile at the couple.

"It's physical something." Lyla shook her head, and continued to chuckle, walking away to settle into Felicity's desk chair.

Oliver, who was positioned above Felicity, sprawled out on the mat below him, held her right thigh between his hands, her knee hooked over his shoulder, as he pushed her leg toward her chest with his torso. Her left leg was positioned between his knees, her palms flat against the mat at her sides.

"What are we, twelve?" Oliver asked sarcastically, though he didn't attempt to move away from her. He applied a fraction more pressure, his eyes falling back to her face.

"Judging by that position? I'd say sixteen, at least." Lyla called from across the room, earning herself a snort of laughter from Felicity.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

"Oh, stop!" she ribbed, grinning up at him. "That was funny."

"Felicity, focus, okay?" he insisted. "Let me know when it hurts." Oliver gave her leg another gentle push.

"Nothing yet, Mr. Queen." Felicity pouted, while John made his way over to lean against Felicity's desk, beside his wife.

Oliver increased the pressure on her leg, until her thigh was just an inch or so above her chest. Felicity winced, and he immediately sat back, extending her leg, slowly. "That's further than you've been able to go, all week." He grinned.

"Give me another few days, and I'd be glad to show you just how far I can go." Felicity murmured, close to his ear, as she shifted to lift herself off the mat. She stood, and sauntered away, throwing him a wink over her shoulder as she headed for her desk.

Oliver held his pose, with one knee bent up, and the other on the mat, as he fought to control his body's reaction to her words. A bolt of lust shot through him, ricocheting around his body, and causing his work out pants to feel just a little tighter.

"So what's this dinner about?" Lyla asked Felicity, as she drew from her water bottle.

"Moira wants to have one last meal, with everyone together, before Thea and Roy leave for Gotham next weekend." Felicity informed her. "She didn't get the chance before they left, the first time, so I think she's trying to make up for it."

"She and Thea have been butting heads, as of late." Oliver explained, rising from the mat, having gotten his body under control. "Mom just wants to show Thea that she can be supportive, even if she disagrees with her choices."

"She doesn't approve of Thea taking the internship?" Lyla asked, surprised.

"She doesn't approve of Thea taking an internship at someone else's company." Felicity supplied. "Moira believes that if she wants to hone her IT skills, she should do it at QC, instead of Wayne Enterprises."

"Keep it in the family." Digg threw in.

"Exactly." Oliver nodded.

"And, Thea being the rebellious girl that she is, wants nothing to do with QC?" Lyla sought clarification.

"Not entirely." Oliver shrugged. "I think she just wants to prove that she doesn't need the Queen name to succeed."

"Which, she doesn't." Felicity interjected. "She got this internship, all on her own. And, if she decides she wants to work for the family company, she'll get that position on her own merit, too. The girl is beyond talented."

"You know, I've been meaning to ask." Digg furrowed his brow. "How does she manage to keep prospective employers from finding out she's a Queen?"

Felicity smirked, glancing at Oliver, who was frowning. "I changed her last name, on all of her transcripts, and identification."

"To what?" Lyla wanted to know.

Oliver's frown deepened to a scowl. He hadn't been at all pleased when Thea and Felicity had informed him of this "little" detail.

Felicity beamed, linking her arm through his. "Harper."

"Which, you apparently hate?" Lyla turned her gaze to Oliver.

"I don't hate it." Oliver argued, halfheartedly. "I like Roy-"

"Now." Diggle coughed, grinning.

"I like Roy, _now_." Oliver amended. "It's just strange to hear my baby sister use any name, other than Queen."

"Well, I'd get used to it, if I were you." Felicity muttered.

"What do you mean?" Oliver questioned, turning toward her, his gaze searching her face.

"I think that's fairly obvious." Lyla piped up. "It's only a matter of time before they take the plunge, and the name change becomes permanent."

"They're too young." Oliver tried to deny. "There's plenty of time before that becomes a reality."

"They've been together for almost seven years, Oliver." Felicity felt the need to defend them.

Oliver's scowl returned. "Can we just get this over with, so we can go home and get ready for dinner?"

"Oh, right." Felicity tapped herself on the forehead, turning to Lyla. "What exactly did you need me to do?"

"A.R.G.U.S is having trouble digging up intel on a suspect." The brunette explained, pulling a flash drive from the interior of her purse. "I was hoping that you'd have better luck."

Taking the drive, Felicity glanced it over.

"Her name's Brenna Cavanaugh." Lyla filled her in. "The girl is a ghost. No photos, no prints, no DNA. We've got almost nothing on her."

Felicity rolled another chair toward her desk, and sat down, pulling up a search program. She entered the name Lyla had given her. At once, the program started scanning every network, and database it had access to.

"How did she end up on A.R.G.U.S.'s list?" Oliver asked, coming to stand behind Felicity's chair.

"She's an assassin for hire." Digg informed them. "But, she doesn't just swoop in and take you out. She likes to play cat and mouse, first. If she just so happens to ruin your life, in the process, all the better."

"There's a rumor that she might be headed our way, and if that's the case, we need to know who she's targeting." Lyla elaborated.

"Well, my programs are running." Felicity assured her. "It may take me a while, but I'll find you something to go on."

* * *

"Can you help me with this?" Felicity asked, over her shoulder, as Oliver appeared in the mirror, behind her.

He grasped the zipper of her dress, drawing it up her back, agonizingly slow. After fastening the closure at the base of her neck, he let his hands slide over her shoulders, gliding down her arms, coming to rest at her elbows. "You look beautiful." He smiled softly at her reflection.

"You don't look so bad yourself." She grinned, as she slipped in a pair of white gold drop earrings. She turned her head from side to side, enjoying the way the deep blue sapphires sparkled in the light. "I just have to find shoes."

Oliver's eyes scanned down her body as she moved away from him, toward the bedroom. He admired the way the royal blue satin of her dress molded to her curves, stopping mid-thigh, and giving a tantalizing view of her long legs.

He followed her out, sitting on the edge the bed, as he watched her disappear into his closet. Just the day before, he'd had the contents of her closet, in her apartment, brought to the mansion. Her array of colorful shoes, and the entirety of her wardrobe, now shared space in his enormous closet.

"Which ones?" Felicity asked, as she reappeared. She held two pairs of low heels in her hands, one black and one silver, both strappy.

"Silver." Oliver nodded, and Felicity ducked back into the closet. "Have you seen Roy, today?" He called toward the open door.

"Yes." Felicity's head popped through the doorway. "Why?"

"Did he seem off to you?"

"Not really. Maybe a little tense." She frowned, exiting the closet with the silver shoes hooked over her fingers. "Why?"

"I don't know." Oliver rubbed his hand over his jaw. "I ran into him, in the hall, when we got home. He just didn't seem like himself."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." Felicity strode across the room, coming to a stop in front of him.

Oliver tilted his head back, looking up into her face, framed by her straightened blonde strands. His eyes met hers, and his hands found their way to rest on her thighs. "You're probably right." He tugged her toward him.

She let her shoes fall to the floor, by his feet. "I usually am." she teased, letting him pull her across his lap.

Oliver chuckled, pressing a kiss to the bare ridge of her collarbone, one hand sliding up her thigh, dipping just beneath the hem of her dress. "How's the hip?" he asked, as his fingers kneaded her flesh.

"Better." She sighed the words, reveling in the feel of his skin rubbing deliciously over hers.

Oliver nuzzled his nose below her ear, his lips whispering over her skin. "What about your stitches?"

"Just about ready to come out." She assured him, of the last set, in her right thigh.

In a move, quick, but gentle, Oliver shifted them both, so that she was flat on her back on his bed, with him hovering over her. A surprised giggle bubbled from her lips, before he bent to capture them. One hand slipped under her head, threading through her hair, while the other fisted in the duvet beside it. His kiss was intoxicating, filling Felicity with heat. She lifted her knees, each one pressing into Oliver's hips with insistent pressure.

His tongue sought entrance, between her magenta lips, which she easily obliged. He slipped between them, stroking her tongue teasingly. Felicity's fingers dug into his sides, pulling him down to her, nestling him between her open legs. Oliver groaned into her mouth at the contact, painfully aware that they were separated by only three thin layers of fabric. Fire raced down his spine, as her lips grew needy and possessive under his.

Felicity moaned, a shudder running through her, when the growing bulge behind his zipper pressed into the juncture of her thighs. His hips rocked against her, and she was too turned on to even care that the stitches in her thigh were pulling at her skin. Her hands ran up his sides, gliding over the straining muscles of his back, coming to rest on his shoulder blades.

Oliver released her lips, his forehead falling to the crook of her neck, as he fought to reign himself in. Felicity let her fingers dance over his back, while she tried to steady her breathing.

"A few more days." Oliver grumbled against her neck. "We can wait a few more days."

"Are you trying to convince me, or you?" Felicity asked, breathlessly, resting her cheek to his hair.

"You." He pushed himself up, to gaze down at her. "You practically assaulted me, just now." He grinned, his thumb brushing back a strand of hair from her face.

"Sure." Felicity laughed. "That's what happened."

"See?" Oliver pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, before sliding down the bed, until his feet hit the carpet. He bent to retrieve one of her shoes. "Come here." he crooked a finger at her, motioning her forward.

Felicity sat up, shifting to the bottom of the bed. Oliver knelt to the floor, his hand hooking behind her knee, and running gently down her calf. He caught her by the heel, and lifted her foot, sliding it into the silver shoe. He deftly fastened the clasp, at her ankle, his fingers lingering on her skin. Repeating the process, he set her foot down, and stood, offering her his hand. "Shall we?"

Smiling, Felicity slipped her fingers into his palm, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She adjusted her dress, smoothing the fabric over her curves. "Will you promise me something?" she asked, tilting her head in question, meeting his eyes.

Confusion colored his features, but he nodded. "Alright."

"Try to just enjoy the night, okay?"

Oliver's brow wrinkled. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Yes." Felicity admitted, stepping closer, as her hands slid up the front of his gray jacket. "But, only because it's not my place to tell you." She pressed a delicate kiss to his lips, giving him a reassuring smile. "Now, come on. Let's go down, before your mother sends a search party."

* * *

Seated around the obnoxiously large table, in the formal dining room, the entirety of the Arrow family smiled, laughed, and ate, together, in easy comfort. Moira graced the head of the table, with Oliver, Felicity, John, and Lyla at her right, and Thea, Roy, and Walter at her left. Even though she and Walter were divorced, Moira would never dream of excluding him from things that involved the children. Walter loved her children as if they were his own, and she couldn't imagine not having him in their lives.

Dinner proved to be a noisy, slightly chaotic, wonderfully festive, family occasion. Oliver kept his hand on Felicity's thigh, beneath the table, which was both comforting and distracting, but she had no desire to ask him to remove it. Lyla and John passed around the latest sonogram photo, earning oohs and aahs from the whole of the table.

Thea was beyond thrilled to have everyone together, and found herself, in more than one instance, clasping her mother's hand on the table, a brilliant smile splitting her pretty face. Roy was quiet, which wasn't at all unusual, but Oliver kept glancing in his direction, nonetheless.

Felicity, noticing this, leaned to her side, whispering to him. "Will you stop doing that? You're making him nervous."

"I'll stop, if you tell me what's going on." Oliver whispered back.

Pursing her lips, Felicity looked at him sternly. "Look here comes dessert." She pointed, with her chin, as Raisa came into the dining room, with a cart of Thea's favorite dessert, chocolate moose with fresh strawberries, and a few bottles of her favorite champagne.

When everyone had been served, and their glasses were all full, Moira stood. "I'm glad that everyone could be here tonight. Having her family together, safe and sound, under one roof, is every mother's dream." Her gaze swept around the table, smiling fondly at the lot of them, before settling on her daughter. "Thea, my darling, I don't know how to put into words how proud I am, of the woman you've become. You are smart, and brave, and all of the things I never was, at your age. You have such a giving spirit, a way of looking at life that makes you see things in ways that no one else could ever understand." Thea's eyes were watering, as she smiled wetly up at her mother. "Your father would be so proud of you, Thea, just as Walter and I are." She moved around to Thea's side of the table, wrapping her daughter in a tight hug.

"Cheers!" Walter called, a sentiment that everyone echoed.

As Moira released her youngest child, Roy rose to his feet. Felicity slipped her hand beneath the table, wrapping her fingers around Oliver's, where they lay, spread out on her thigh. He looked at her, questioningly, but Felicity kept her eyes on Roy.

"Thea, I..." Roy cleared his throat, nervously adjusting the collar of his white button-up. "There are so many things that I want to say, that I need you to hear." He took her left hand, holding it in both of his, as his eyes met hers. "The day that I met you, my life, my entire word, changed. I went from a punk ass street kid, to a man worthy of a woman like you. Sometimes, I think that I'll never truly be worthy, but, somehow, you make me feel like I am. You are incredibly kind, even when people don't deserve it. You always speak your mind, even when people are unwilling to hear it. You're sarcastic, and mouthy, and willful. You're honest, and intelligent, and passionate, and everything I ever could have asked for."

Tears pricked Felicity's eyes, as she saw that Thea already had tears trickling down her blushing cheeks.

"I never saw my life turning out this way." Roy continued, stuffing one hand into the pocket of his black slacks. "But, I look at you, and I know that anything is possible, as long as I have you. There will never be a day, for as long as I live, that I won't need you, by my side." He dropped to the floor, on one knee, lifting a small blue box, open to display a solitary white diamond, set in a platinum band. Thea's right hand shot up to cover her mouth, a loud gasp tumbling from her lips.

Felicity felt Oliver tense, beside her, but she just squeezed his hand that much tighter.

"Thea Dearden Queen," Roy took the ring from the box, poising it at the tip of her left ring finger. "Will you marry me?"

The entire room was deathly silent, for a solid ten seconds, as Thea stared down at Roy, her hand still covering her lips, tears now pouring down her face. All at once, she seemed to collect herself, nodding emphatically. "YES!" she cried. "Yes, you idiot!" She threw herself forward, enveloping Roy in a crushing hug, her lips colliding with his.

Felicity swiped at her eyes, trying to brush away tears, without doing too much damage to her make-up. Oliver, who was staring, thoughtfully, at his baby sister and her boyfrie- Ahem!- fiance, didn't seem to notice when the room erupted into applause. There was a flurry of activity as Moira and Walter embraced the couple, shedding tears of their own, and offering congratulations.

Felicity beamed at the couple, so happy for them that she couldn't stop the tears that continued to slip down her face. Oliver finally noticed, turning in his chair to lean toward her.

"This was what you couldn't tell me?" he asked, softly, using his thumb to brush away a rogue droplet.

Felicity nodded. "Roy asked me not to tell anyone."

"He told you." At first, she thought it sounded like an accusation, but when she saw the look on his face, she realized that he was smirking, just a little.

"I helped him decide on the ring." Felicity shrugged, meeting Oliver's eyes. "He needed a girl's opinion, I think."

"It's more than that." Oliver informed her. "He needed _your _opinion. He trusts you." He paused for a second, tilting his head, as if seeing something, clearly, for the first time. "He loves you."

Felicity glanced at Roy, quickly, then back to Oliver. "I love him, too." She smiled, warmly. "He's the little brother that I always wanted."

"Is there anyone on this planet who doesn't absolutely adore you?" Oliver inquired, as he stood, pulling her to her feet, and guided her around the table.

Felicity's lips turned down as she thought. "My eighth grade science teacher wasn't my biggest fan."

"Let me guess." Oliver offered. "He didn't like being corrected by a student?"

"How did you know that?" she asked, surprised.

Oliver chuckled, as they stopped beside Thea and Roy, who were wrapped up in one another's arms. "Lucky guess." He cleared his throat, getting the other couple's attention.

Thea turned, first, pulling Oliver into a tight hug. "Be nice." she whispered, releasing him, and meeting his gaze.

Oliver grinned. "Congratulations, Speedy." He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, as she smiled brightly up at him.

Felicity hugged Roy, speaking softly. "I told you, you'd know what to say."

Roy laughed, tightening his arms around her. "Could you tell that I was freaking out?"

Felicity pulled back, grinning. "You covered it well." she reassured.

Oliver stepped beside Felicity, his arm slipping around her waist, as he extended a hand to Roy. Roy took the proffered hand, wincing when Oliver tightened his grip, easing up quickly. "I'd say welcome to the family, but that seems like a moot sentiment, at this point." Oliver smiled, really, truly smiled, at the younger man.

Roy grinned, almost proudly, at his mentor, as Thea smiled, wetly, beside him. "I appreciate it, anyway." he dipped his chin. Felicity watched him visibly relax.

Digg and Lyla were next in line, to offer their well wishes, and dish out hugs and handshakes. Oliver led Felicity back to their seats, angling his chair towards her, when she was seated. "Out of curiosity, how long have you known about this?"

Felicity hesitated, unsure how he might feel about her answer. "Since before they left for Gotham." She eventually responded.

Oliver glanced at Roy, as if sizing him up, before returning his gaze to Felicity. "How hard was it to keep it to yourself?"

"Well, I've been a little preoccupied, as of late, so that helped." She joked. "But, you, of all people, should know that I am an excellent secret keeper."

"True." Oliver conceded. "Though, you're not used to keeping things from me."

Felicity could see his reasoning, and honestly, she had to agree. "It was harder to not tell you, than it was to not tell Thea." Felicity allowed.

"Is there anything else you might be keeping from me?" he asked quietly, his lips brushing her ear, eliciting a shiver from her.

"Not by choice." she muttered, smirking when a low growl rumbled in his chest.


	16. When The Realization Hits

**Author's note: TWO updates, in two days? You guys are _beyond_ spoiled!**

* * *

Day eleven found Felicity, and a very angry Thea, waiting in the Foundry when their men returned from a mission. Oliver and Diggle maneuvered their way down the stairs, into the lair, with a grimacing Roy supported between them.

Thea didn't hesitate to surge forward, fiercely jabbing Roy in the chest. "What the hell were you thinking?!" she shouted, her voice high and strained.

"Thea," Oliver cut in, "at least let us put him down before you start attacking him."

"Wow." Roy muttered, sarcastically. "Thanks for the overwhelming show of support."

"He's just glad that it's you getting reamed, and not him, for once." Digg supplied, as they hefted Roy onto the med-bay table.

Felicity stepped forward to assess Roy's injuries, as Thea slugged him in the chest. "Explain!" she demanded.

"It's no big deal." he started, as Oliver and Digg bowed out, letting the women deal with Roy. As Felicity lifted his right arm, he winced. "Devlin was getting away, and since Oliver and Digg were both otherwise engaged, I made a tactical decision."

"That almost got you killed!" Thea hissed, trying to convey anger instead of the fright that swelled within her when his comm had gone silent.

"That's a little dramatic." Roy rolled his eyes, as Felicity helped him shrug out of his red hooded jacket.

"You fell off a second story roof, Roy!" Thea yelled.

To Roy's credit, he didn't flinch. "I didn't _fall._" he defended himself. "I was thrown."

"I don't see how that distinction is relevant." she practically growled.

Felicity had to fight to smother the grin forcing its way onto her lips at that, as she checked his ankle. She wondered if Thea realized how much she sounded like her brother at that exact moment.

"It's a pride thing." Oliver interjected, coming out of the bathroom in jeans and a black t-shirt.

"It's stupid." Thea barked, shooting daggers at Roy. "You were being stupid! Did you stop and think of what it would do to me, if you got yourself killed?"

Roy had the good graces to look guilty, his expression softening as he met her eyes. "I'm sorry, Thea." he said, sincerely. "I had to act quickly, and I made a judgment call. We got him, if that counts for anything."

"Actually," Diggle interrupted, motioning between himself and Oliver. "_We_ got him. You were busy dumpster diving."

"He's lucky that dumpster was there." Felicity informed the room. "If he'd hit concrete, he'd have more than a bruised shoulder, a sprained ankle, and a pissed off fiancee to deal with."

"It's sprained?" Thea's eyes widened, her concern for Roy's well being far outweighing her anger at his stupidity.

"Nothing an air cast, and a few days of staying off of it, can't fix." Felicity assured the younger woman, going to the supply cabinet to find the cast.

"I'm fine, Thea." Roy promised, extending his uninjured arm for her to step into his embrace.

She did so, without hesitation, circling her arms around his ribs. "If you ever do that to me again, I'll kill you myself." she vowed.

"Noted." Roy smirked, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Felicity showed Thea how to put the cast on, and then stepped away, to let the pair have their space.

"So," she began, turning toward Oliver and Digg, "now that Devlin is out of commission, will one of you, please, take me to get some food? Because I am starving, and we all know that a starving Felicity, is a grumpy Felicity."

Oliver chuckled, snatching their coats from where they were tossed over a table. "Well, no one wants that."

"My point, precisely." She grinned, shrugging into her coat. "You guys want to come?" she asked over her shoulder, to Thea and Roy.

"No, thanks. I'm going to take Roy home." Thea responded, giving Roy the evil eye when he looked like he might protest.

"Digg?" Felicity turned back to find him already donning his coat.

"I think I'm just going to swing by Big Belly and grab some take-out for me and Lyla. She's been on a burger kick."

"Looks like it's just you and me, Queen." Felicity slipped an arm through his.

"In that case, why don't we order in? We can try that new Thai place you've been drooling over." Oliver suggested, guiding her up the stairs. He was pleased to note that she seemed to be having an easier time with walking, not even appearing to limp.

"Dinner and a movie?" asked Felicity.

"Do I get to pick the movie?" Oliver bargained, opening the security door and ushering her through.

"After the last fiasco? Do I look crazy to you?" Felicity grinned, turning down the hallway that led away from the noisy crowd, and out the back of Verdant.

"Hey! It wasn't that bad." Oliver tried to defend his choice, knowing that it was useless.

"Oliver." Felicity rounded on him, hands on her hips. "The main character had a face on his tongue, named 'Tonguey'. Do you really want to argue that movie's merits?"

Grinning himself, Oliver caved. "Fine. You pick the entertainment." He agreed, turning her so she was facing the door to the parking lot, and pushing her toward it with a hand at the small of her back.

* * *

An hour and a half later, they were settled on the plush sofa in the media room, waiting for their food to arrive. They'd seen Thea, briefly, when she'd come down to get something from the kitchen, but she and Roy were now shut away in her room.

"Did you pick a movie, yet?" Oliver inquired, glancing down at Felicity, who was stretched out across the couch, with her head in his lap.

"Yup." Came her one word response.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Nope." She smiled up at him, mischief in her eyes.

"What do you have up your sleeve, Miss Smoak?" Oliver quirked a brow in question.

"I have no idea what you mean." She winked, and he couldn't resist the urge to bend down and brush his lips over hers.

"Sure you don't." Oliver grinned down at her, sitting back against the cushions. "As long as it's not 'Prince of Thieves', I won't complain."

"Oh, come on!" Felicity balked. "You love Alan Rickman!"

"True, but you've made me watch that movie about a thousand times. Promise me we're not watching 'Prince of Thieves' again, Felicity."

With an exaggerated sigh, she relented. "I promise. No 'Prince of Thieves'."

The glint of amusement in her eyes should have been his first clue that she was up to no good.

"Give me a hint." Oliver told her. He hated not knowing things, no matter how small they were.

Felicity mulled the idea over, deciding how much she could say without giving anything away. "It's a classic fairy tale, with a twist." She finally informed him.

Oliver spent the next fifteen minutes making guesses, all of which were wrong. Felicity was enjoying watching him wrack his brain for as many fairy tales as he could remember.

The doorbell rang, and Felicity sat up to let him go answer it. She smiled to herself, as she hooked her tablet to the TV, setting up the movie so that all she had to do was hit play. She went to the kitchen to gather wine glasses, a corkscrew, and silverware, setting them out on the counter. She pulled a bottle of red from the wine fridge, under the island, scooped up the glasses and the utensils, and headed back to the media room.

Oliver was pulling containers from a bag on the coffee table, as she entered the room. The scent of spice and coconut hit her nose and her mouth started to water.

"Oh my God, that smells so good." She sighed, setting her cargo down beside the food.

"One order of chili glazed chicken with coconut rice." He grinned, sliding the plastic container toward her.

"What did you get?" She asked, watching him open the bottle of wine.

"Beef Pad Thai."

"Did you remind them-"

"Three times." Oliver assured her.

Felicity smiled. "I don't even know why I bother to ask, anymore."

"Neither do I." Oliver laughed, as he poured their wine.

He settled down on the cushions she'd pulled onto the floor, and waited for her to come back from starting the movie. His eyes were focused on watching her, so he didn't see the title screen flash on the TV.

She eased down beside him, only wincing slightly when the skin around her burns pinched. "You know, I think the last of my stitches are ready to come out." She mused, noticing that the sutures in her thigh, the only stitches still in place, no longer twinged when she moved.

"I'll check after the movie." he told her. With that, his eyes landed on the television, and his brow furrowed. "I thought you promised no Robin Hood?" he accused, turning his gaze back to her.

"_Technically_, I promised no 'Prince of Thieves'." she clarified. "This is 'Men in Tights'. Mel Brooks is a genius."

"What's with you and Robin Hood?" Oliver questioned, his tone just a bit territorial. "I thought you found archery 'utterly ridiculous'."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Oliver, that was seven years ago. Let it go." She smirked at him, lowering her voice. "Besides, that was before I'd seen you in your green leather."

Her words created a surge of heat in his veins, and he had to force himself to stay on his own cushion. "Got a thing for it now, do you?" he teased, his tone huskier than he'd intended.

"Maybe." she allowed, lifting a forkful of rice to her lips.

"Robin Hood wears green." Oliver noted, the possessive edge creeping back into his voice.

Felicity laughed softly. "True, but, his isn't leather. Besides, I prefer to be the only one who wears tights, in a relationship."

Oliver threw his head back, his chest rumbling with laughter. Felicity shivered as the sound reverberated through her.

"Fair enough." Oliver nodded, when he got his laughter out of his system.

They settled in to watch the movie, while they ate. Oliver actually seemed to enjoy the film, once he relaxed and let himself get into it. Felicity split her focus between the screen, and watching Oliver's reactions. As she sipped her wine, she found herself smiling when he smiled, laughing when he laughed, even though she wasn't paying much attention to the movie. Just seeing him so at ease, and enjoying the simple pleasure of a comedy film, made her unable to resist the lightness that swelled in her chest.

"See?" She jabbed him softly with her elbow, when the movie was finished. "I knew you'd like it, if you gave it a chance."

Oliver stood up, tossing their empty containers back into the paper bag, and scooping up their glasses. "It was good, I'll admit. Very funny."

Felicity pushed herself up from the floor, grabbing the, now empty, wine bottle and their silverware, and followed him to the kitchen.

"I told you, Mel Brooks is a comedic genius." she informed him. "'Space Balls' is one of the funniest movies I've ever seen."

"Space Balls?" Oliver quirked a brow in question, as he stuffed the empty bag into the trash.

"It's a Star Wars parody." she explained. "We'll watch it next time."

Oliver nodded his approval, which told Felicity she'd converted him to Mel Brooks' particular brand of comedy.

"So, how about these stitches?" She reminded him, pointing to her thigh.

"Upstairs." He pointed toward the ceiling. "Our bathroom."

Felicity, who had been turning to head for the stairs, stopped in her tracks. Oliver, hearing the words repeat in his head as she froze, stalled, too. Suddenly, a memory, from a few nights before, played in his mind. He recalled telling her that she was safe, in _their_ bedroom, the night she'd had her panic attack.

"Our?" Felicity breathed. She hadn't expected him to put voice to their situation, anytime soon. After all, Oliver was the king of avoiding any kind of direct conversation about things pertaining to their relationship.

He glanced at her face, trying to decipher her reaction. She seemed surprised, and maybe a little wary. Oliver straightened his spine, squaring his shoulders in preparation of this discussion.

"Isn't it?" He shrugged, trying desperately for nonchalance. "If it bothers you..." He trailed off, not sure he wanted to complete the sentence.

"No!" Felicity said quickly. "It's not that. It's just... I still have my apartment."

"Which, you haven't set foot in, in almost a month." Oliver pointed out, gently.

"Which, I still pay for. Meaning, it's still mine." Felicity clarified.

Oliver bristled. This was not playing out like he thought it would. "Fine." he muttered. "Let's go upstairs, to _my_ bathroom."

He made to push past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Oliver, stop." she ordered, her tone demanding, but somehow pleading, at the same time. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then, Felicity?" He was hurt by her arguing something he'd thought they both agreed on, but he didn't want her to see it, so he went for annoyed instead.

She took a deep breath, to calm her temper, which was flaring to life at his tone. She knew he was trying to deflect from his actual feelings, so she made herself clamp down on the angry retort that threatened to trip from her lips.

"Okay, look." She decided to just jump in with both feet, and get it over with. "I love the idea of 'ours', Oliver. I love the idea of us having a space that's half yours, and half mine. But, when I think 'ours', I think of something that belongs only to _us_. This space, this house, belongs to Thea, and Roy, and your mom, and to your past. I love being here, with you, and with your family, don't get me wrong, I just-"

"Our." Oliver cut off her babble, a wide smile curving his lips. It was the first time she'd babbled, since she'd been taken, and the sound made his heart swell.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"_Our_ family." Felicity opened her mouth, but he stopped her, again. He reached up to wrap his fingers around the hand on his chest. "I understand where you're coming from, with the space aspect of it, okay? But, this family, this life? It's ours, Felicity. It has been, for what feels like forever. We've both just been too stubborn to admit it."

Felicity stared up at him, shocked. Oliver was not a man who spoke lightly, especially not when it came to the topic of them.

"I... I..." She stuttered, completely at a loss for words. Why did he have to choose now to be so level headed, and forthcoming?

His smile widened. "Felicity Meghan Smoak, speechless. Who'd have thought?"

She dragged in a ragged breath, trying to sort through her thoughts. Her mind was whirling, and she didn't even know where to start making sense of anything. She knew Oliver loved her, that he was _in_ love with her. He'd made that perfectly clear since the moment he'd rescued her from Count Vertigo. She knew that they'd been sharing a space, _his _space, since she'd gotten out of the hospital, and that all of her clothes, and most of her everyday items, were now scattered around his bedroom. Which, she remembered thinking, had a very domestic feel to it. In reality, how could it not?

Oliver was right, too. They'd made a life, a family, all their own, over the years. Thea and Lyla were the sisters she never had, and Roy and Diggle the brothers she'd always wanted. Moira had welcomed her into their world with open arms, something which had also shocked Felicity. Their worlds had merged, in most ways, a long time ago.

Somehow, this just felt different. Living together, was different, even if it wasn't in a place of their own, yet. Cohabitating was the next logical progression for their relationship, she knew. Had they really made that large of a step, without her realizing they were making it? Was she already living with him, here at the mansion?

"Shit." she groaned, her head falling back.

"That's not exactly the response I was going for." Oliver muttered, his tone more than a little hurt.

"No!" She cringed, realizing how her response sounded. "That's not... I know how that sounded, but that's not at all what I meant." Her head was swimming, but she wanted to explain, and the words started to tumble out before she could stop them. "We've been a 'we' for years, Oliver. It's just been unofficial, unspoken, until now. You and I have never been good with talking about our feelings for each other. I mean, it took five years, and a near-death experience, for you tell me that you were in love with me. And, it took me almost as long, to tell you the same thing. Things are changing really quickly, now, and, some things are changing without us even noticing, and I'm having a little trouble catching up."

"That's your second babble inside of ten minutes." Oliver said, amusement replacing the hurt in his eyes.

Her eyebrows drew together, again. "Since when is that new?"

"You haven't done it since before... everything." He shrugged. "It's nice to hear it, again."

"I'm just trying to process. How are you not having a tougher time with this?"

Unfazed by her question, he was quick to respond. "That night, in Verdant, when I kissed you on the bar... Everything changed, Felicity. And, it scared the hell out of both of us. We wanted to be together but, we didn't want the pain, or complications, that might come with it. So, we kept the most important barrier between us, the one that let us convince ourselves that we were just _really good _friends, and let the rest of them go. But, I don't think either of us ever truly believed that. I think that we just wanted to pretend that we did, because neither of us wanted to get hurt, or be the one doing the hurting"

"What barrier?" Felicity asked, sure that if she could think properly she'd be better able to follow his line of thought.

"The one that stopped me from kissing you, every time you walked into a room. The one that stopped me from throwing you down in my bed, and making you scream my name, every time I had a mind to."

"Oh." It was the only word she could remember how to pronounce. Visions of what he'd just described were taking up all the space in her head, leaving her unable to process a damn thing.

Oliver continued. "And, now, things are changing. We're in a different place with each other, and that's a big deal. But, it's a place we always knew we'd end up, right?" Felicity nodded. "So, we'll figure it out. Together."

They stood, in the middle of the kitchen, just staring at one another. Felicity couldn't get the image of him throwing her down in his bed out of her mind's eye, and Oliver was attempting to shake off visions of just how he might go about making her scream his name.

Clearing his throat, Oliver forced himself to focus on something else. "Now that we, sort of, have that settled..." He turned her in place, and pushed her toward the door. "Why don't you let me follow that cute little ass upstairs, so I can check your stitches?"


	17. We Were Worth Waiting For

**Author's note: ****_**This chapter is NSFW**_**

* * *

"Take off your pants, and get up on the counter." Oliver ordered, as he stepped into the bathroom, tugging her along behind him.

Felicity did as she was told, pushing her jeans down her thighs,and kicking them off, before lifting herself up to slide back on the marble counter top. Oliver gave her a long, once over, before he sifted through the drawer where he'd put the tools he'd used to remove her other stitches. He found them, once again using his lighter to sterilize them, before turning back to her.

Oliver stepped between her legs, grabbed her hips, and none-to-gently, slid her forward, so that she was just resting on the edge of the counter. Felicity grinned up at him, her heart beating a chaotic rhythm against her ribs. Oliver brushed a deceptively gentle kiss over her lips, before he stepped back, dropping to his knees. Felicity had to stifle a groan at the sight. Oliver Queen, on his knees in front of her, was a sight to behold. She watched, enraptured, as he lifted her leg, to rest her calf on his shoulder, and slowly unwound the gauze from around her thigh.

Should suture removal ever be this sexy?

His rough hands slid over the creamy alabaster skin of her thigh, as he looked over her stitches. "Yeah, these are definitely ready to come out." he affirmed. "Are you ready?" he asked, lifting his eyes to her face.

"As I'll ever be." She nodded, ignoring the way her heart beat a staggering rhythm against her ribs.

She watched him work, slipping the tiny scissors beneath the knots, and cutting the thread. One hand pressed into her thigh, holding the skin taut, as he started to tug the sutures out. She was thankful for the distraction of his fingers splayed against her skin. It was over quickly, and Felicity was beyond glad to realize that she was officially stitch free, when he settled her leg back down beside him. Oliver stood, tossing out the gauze and thread, never stepping out from between her thighs. He dropped the tools into the drawer, then turned his attention back to her. His hands slid over her thigh, his fingers pressing into her flesh, just this side of roughly.

"How does it feel?" he questioned, and a thousand different responses filtered through her brain.

"Well, it certainly doesn't hurt." she answered, tilting her head and grinning up at him once more.

Oliver used his hands, with her shin against his ribs, to push her thigh toward her chest, slowly, to gauge the shape of her hip. "What about this?"

"It's a little tight, but it's nothing a hot shower won't fix." she assured.

"A shower sounds like a great idea." Oliver stepped away from her, lowering her thigh to the counter carefully. "Why don't you go first, while I make a quick run to the store?"

"For what?" she asked, curiously.

"I have a sudden craving." He grinned, heading for the door. "You want anything, while I'm out?"

She only had to think about it for a second, before she had a request. "Can you get me some Swedish Fish?"

Oliver chuckled. "Sure. Anything else?"

She shook her head, as she leaned into the huge shower stall to turn on the hot water. When she turned back around, Oliver was already gone. Shaking her head again, this time in amusement, she made her way into the bedroom, in search of sleep clothes. Just as she was bending down to shuffle through her drawers, Oliver strode back into the room.

"Forget something?" She smiled, straightening up, as he came toward her.

"Yeah." he said hoarsely, his hands coming up to cup her face.

His lips were suddenly crashing hungrily over hers, and she molded her body against him, her fingers digging into the front of his brown leather. His kiss was greedy, drawing a moan from her throat as he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently. All too soon, he was releasing her, barely grazing her lips with his own, then disappearing out the door.

Felicity stood, thunderstruck, her fingers brushing over her swollen lips. After several long minutes, forcing her heartbeat to come back down, she made herself continue what she'd been doing. She dug through the already open drawer, finding a pair of dark green boy shorts, that had a matching camisole, and pair of black pajama pants. Dragging open one of Oliver's drawers, she hauled out one of his gray t-shirts, and wrapped it around her bundle. She headed back to the bathroom, already full of steam.

She stripped out of her panties, cowl-neck blouse, and bra, before dropping them into the hamper. After running a brush through her hair, she removed the square, flesh-toned, bandages that sat on each side of her pelvis, before stepping into the shower, reveling in the hot water as it sluiced over her.

Half an hour later, she was stepping out, every ounce of stiffness having been washed away. She couldn't help the smile gracing her lips, as she wrapped her hair in a towel. With another, she dried her body, pleased that she had no trouble bending to dry her legs.

Felicity put new bandages over her burn marks, since they still needed to be covered. She turned from side to side, in the mirror, looking over her body. The bandages at her hips blended well with her skin tone, though she could still see the expansive, but faint, tinge of purple on the right side. She was slowly becoming accustomed to seeing the scars when she looked in the mirror, and they were no longer the first thing her eyes were drawn to. Mostly, these days, her eyes were drawn to the bow pendant nestled between her breast. She never took it off, liking the proximity of it, to her heart.

Dropping the towel around her feet, she slipped into the panty and camisole set, before pulling the t-shirt over them. She set to work on blow-drying her hair, dancing a little in place as she did.

She didn't know if it was her conversation with Oliver, about the status of their relationship, as well as their living arrangement, or the fact that all of her stitches were finally gone, but she felt elated. It was almost as if a weight she hadn't known she'd been carrying, had been lifted from her shoulders. She found herself singing an old Journey song, that her father used to play, under her breath, as she smoothed out her strands with a bristled brush.

Finished with her hair, she stepped into the pajama pants, slipped on her glasses, and then danced her way into the bedroom, to find Oliver propped up in the bed, her tablet on his lap.

He was already watching her, an eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Enjoy your shower?" he questioned, laughter in his tone.

"Absolutely." She smiled. "I feel as good as new."

"Oh, really?" Oliver set her tablet on the bed beside him, and stood. He strode toward her, coming to a stop an arms length in front of her. "Give me your right foot."

"Why?" she challenged, her hands on her hips.

"Because, I asked you to."

"There was a question mark at the end of that sentence?" Felicity asked, fully aware that there hadn't been.

Oliver smirked, his eyes glowing with humor. "For once in your life, will you just do as you're told, without questioning my methods?"

"Have you met me?" She smirked at him, but lifted the requested foot, so he could catch it in his palm.

Oliver stepped toward her, bending her leg at the knee. She grasped his forearm to balance herself, as he pushed her thigh against her chest. "How does it feel, now?"

"Like you enjoy being a pain in my ass." She muttered snarkily.

He chuckled. "Come on, Felicity. Does it hurt?"

"If you push it all the way back, it pinches a little." she admitted. "But, no. It doesn't hurt."

He lowered her foot, and motioned at the floor. "Lay down."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why?"

He gave her an exasperated look.

Rolling her eyes, she sat down, and then laid flat on her back.

Oliver knelt at her right side, next to her knee."When it starts to hurt, tell me." He instructed, lifting her right leg and leaning back. He carefully positioned her leg parallel with his chest, watching her for signs of discomfort. When she showed none, he clasped his hands around her calf and slowly leaned forward, pressing her leg toward her shoulder. "Anything?"

Felicity forced the lustful response to stay in her lungs, opting instead to shake her head. She didn't trust herself to speak, with the way he was rubbing against her, making her hyper-aware of each spot their bodies were connected.

His fingers moved over her calf, sliding up her thigh, her skin burning under his touch, even through the fabric of her pants. He used his hands to guide her leg outward, toward her hip. With her leg at an acute angle to the floor, he paused."What about now?"

"I used to be able to spread my legs wider than this." she observed, before she processed how it sounded. Hearing the words out loud, she blushed, a bright splash of pink coloring her cheeks, a sight that Oliver found he missed.

Oliver arched a brow. "Do I want to know how you know that?"

"My mom made me take gymnastics when I was little." Felicity explained in a rush. "She thought it would help me make friends, and gain some coordination. I was in advanced placement, so all of my classmates were older than me. And, I was super clumsy."

"Did you like it?" Oliver inquired, absentmindedly stroking his thumbs along the underside of her thigh.

"Not really, but I was good at it." She grinned. "I was one of the only kids in my group that could do a full center split. Which, is how I know how wide I can spread my legs." Her eyes fell to where he was kneeling.

"Good to know." He smirked, leaning over her to press a kiss to her lips, and pulling away, far too soon for Felicity's liking. "I'm going to go jump in the shower." he informed her, standing up, and offering his hand to pull her to her feet.

She watched him walk away, disappearing into the bathroom, with a light shake of her head. The man really could be maddening, sometimes. She didn't know how he managed to come across as so unaffected, when her insides were screaming with need.

Felicity sank down onto the edge of the bed, checking the alerts on her tablet. She'd set tracking alerts on the more popular gossip sites, tagging herself, Oliver, and the rest of the team, as triggers, so they would know if anything new came up, either about their secret lives, or in connection with the story about The Count. She was aware of the press' interest in the story, as she'd been fielding calls for interviews for the last week. Oliver had even gone so far as to hire extra security at the gate, to keep the paparazzi at bay. They'd both been hoping that the next big story would come along, any minute, and knock her story out of the headlines. So far, they hadn't had any luck in the area. She scanned the alerts, reading quickly through any story that contained their names, but found nothing of any consequence.

She also decided to check her search program, the one that was searching for any crumb of information on Lyla's mysterious assassin. So far, she hadn't been able to find much, other than a few cases that seemed to be connected to the femme fatale. There was a fuzzy picture that surfaced in the search, but it was of the back of the woman's head, and it could hardly be used to identify her. Remaining unable to find anything solid, was starting to grate on Felicity's nerves.

Deciding that a cup of tea might help soothe the frayed edges of her frustrations, as well as her libido, she wandered down to the kitchen. She set the kettle to boil, and switched on the little radio beside the sink. The heavy sounds of a classic rock song thrummed through the silence, making Felicity feel less alone. She found herself singing along to the familiar bars of a song she recognized as one of Oliver's favorites, a fond smile turning up her mouth.

The kettle whistled, announcing itself, and Felicity poured the boiling water into her waiting mug. Stirring in a splash of cream and a half spoon of sugar, she replaced the kettle on the stove, and made her way back to the counter. She scooped up her cup, and headed for the patio doors, overlooking the gardens. Leaning against the wide door frame, Felicity held her mug in one hand, while the other twirled her bow pendant between its digits.

It was a favorite spot of hers, the garden, for as long as she'd spent in the Queen mansion. On nights, like tonight, under a full moon, the grounds were bathed in pale moonlight, making everything appear as if it were glowing. During the spring and summer months, the garden was always in full bloom, and the scent of blossoms wafted through the air, lingering in the senses. In the fall, Felicity loved to walk the entirety of the estate, enjoying the crisp air, and the subtle changes in the leaves.

She must have been standing there, sipping her tea while gazing out the glass doors, for longer than she thought because she was startled by the feel of strong arms sliding around her waist.

"I should have known I'd find you down here." Oliver murmured, his chin coming to rest in the curve of her shoulder.

"How many spots did you check before this one?" she asked, a shiver running through her as his stubble grazed the side of her neck.

"Just my study. I thought maybe you were wandering around Diagon Alley, again."

Felicity smiled widely, letting herself lean back against his chest. "He does pay attention!" she teased warmly.

"I always pay attention when you talk, Felicity." Oliver assured her, touching gentle kisses down her neck, and out, across her shoulder.

"Mmhmm." she hummed, letting her eyes droop closed as electricity danced over her skin, where his lips brushed.

"How's your tea?" he inquired, his mouth never stopping its travels, tracing the same path, in reverse.

"Gone."

"Good." Oliver said softly, his nose nuzzling against her ear. "I have something for you, upstairs."

"It had better be my Swedish Fish." Felicity informed him, drawing a low chuckle from his chest.

"They're up there, too." He took her mug in one hand, and her hand in the other, pulling her away from the doors.

He dropped the empty mug into the sink, and tugged her out of the kitchen, toward the stairs. Felicity followed behind him, admiring the way his red flannel pajama pants hung from his hips, and the way his rear end looked, as he climbed the steps.

"I can feel that, you know." Oliver told her, shooting a grin over his shoulder.

"And you think I didn't, when you were behind me, earlier?" she challenged, as they turned into the hallway toward his bedroom.

Oliver didn't respond, but she heard his chuckle as he pushed open the bedroom door. Felicity stepped in front of him, looking up at his face with her back to the door.

"Admit it." she demanded, her arms crossed over her breasts, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Fine. You caught me." Oliver put his hands up in surrender. "I like to check out my girlfriend's ass when she walks in front of me."

Felicity felt fire leap to life in her belly. "You said it." She grinned, as warmth wrapped around her heart.

Oliver leaned forward, his eyes staring into hers. "I know." he whispered.

She groaned, her hands coming up to cup his neck, and yanking his lips down to hers. His arms went immediately around her waist, pulling her body against his. He splayed his fingers over the curve of her lower back, pressing her closer, still. Felicity's hands slid up, her fingers twining themselves into his short strands, as she lifted onto her toes, her mouth needy, and urgent under his. She felt one of his hands glide down her back, before his fingers kneaded into the flesh of her ass. She gasped, and Oliver took the opportunity to sweep his tongue into her mouth, gliding it over the ridges of her palate.

Oliver's hand followed the curve of her backside, slipping lower, to her thigh. His fingers dug into the supple flesh, dragging her leg up, and hitching it over his hip. His pelvis rocked forward, grinding into hers. Felicity moaned, dragging her lips from his, to scrape her teeth over the edge of his jaw. Her nails scratched down the bare expanse of his chest, roughly. Oliver sucked in a sharp breath as they grazed over his nipples, sending bolts of lightning straight through him.

He banded his arm around her ribcage, and swiftly lifted her, slamming her against the door, his lips recapturing hers with fevered passion, as his hands roamed her body. Felicity drew his tongue between her lips, sucking teasingly. Her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. Unbidden, her hips rolled forward, as her arms found there way around his neck.

With a growl, Oliver groped for the doorknob, finding it after a second of fumbling, and then forced the door open. He carried Felicity through it, before kicking it shut behind them, and letting her slide down his body until her feet touched the carpeted floor. The loud bang of the solid wood door reverberated through the room, though it was completely lost on them. Each of them was so consumed by the other, neither would have even noticed if gravity had suddenly decided to stop holding them to the earth. They didn't need it. They had one another to keep them anchored.

Oliver forced himself to pull back, his chest heaving as he struggled to steady his breathing. His hands came to rest low on her hips."Are you sure about this?" he asked, meeting her eyes, needing to hear her say the words.

Felicity's eyes bored into his, dark and primal. "I have never been more sure, of anything, in my entire life." Her deft fingers skimmed along the rough edge of his jawline, and she watched in fascinated pleasure as his eyes slipped closed, and the muscle of his jaw worked beneath her digits. She brought his forehead to rest against hers, letting her own lids drift down. "We were always an eventuality, Oliver." she whispered.

His fingers tightened against her, digging into the softness of her flesh. Her assurance echoed in his mind, dredging up the memory of the first time she'd uttered those words. He was struck, suddenly, by the amount of time that had passed since that night. "It never should have taken this long." he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of remorse.

Felicity leaned away from him, opening her eyes and cupping his face between her palms. "Look at me." she ordered. When his eyelids fluttered open, the softness in his blue depths made the breath catch in her throat. Inhaling a long, shuddering breath, she continued. "It took as long as it needed to take. If we would've jumped into this, back then, we might not be standing here, now. And, that's not something that either of us could live with."

His eyes were haunted, as they swept over her face. "I don't deserve you." Oliver said weakly, his voice smaller than she'd ever heard it.

It hurt her, deep in her soul, to hear those words spill from his lips. "You've got me." she murmured, stretching up on her toes to brush her lips delicately over his. She let her hand slide down his arm, tangling her fingers between his. She turned, intent on pulling him toward the bed, but she froze in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise, a soft gasp on her lips.

"Oliver... What..." Words escaped her, as her eyes took in the scene before her.

He came up behind her, gliding his hands over her ribs, until she was securely wrapped in his arms, her back flush against his chest. His breath was warm where it washed over her ear. "Surprise." The word was barely a whisper, floating on a sigh.

Felicity couldn't tear her eyes away. She stood, transfixed, completely blown away by the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

Every solid surface in the room held a flickering candle. From the tall pillar candles on each nightstand, to the tiny tea-lights along the windowsill, no stretch of flat space went unadorned with light. The entire room was softly glowing, casting dancing shadows over the walls and across the ceiling.

When Felicity remained speechless, Oliver came around her, his eyes searching her face. He was stunned by the tears glistening in her eyes, reflecting the candlelight. "Felicity." He said her name gently, stirring her from her shocked silence. Her eyes refocused, landing on his face, and the heartbreaking smile she gave him, knocked the air from his lungs.

Without a word, she stepped into him, her arms finding their way around his waist. Her head tilted back, raising her lips to his in offering. Oliver didn't hesitate to close the small gap between them, his lips coming down on hers, tender but probing. His wide hands framed her face, his thumbs stroking the apple of her cheeks. Melting into the solid wall of his chest, Felicity savored the lava that flowed through her veins. It started in her chest, quickly radiating out, until she was engulfed by raging heat.

Her nails scratched lightly over the scars in the small of his back, eliciting a low groan from his throat. Moving backwards, he pulled her with him, until he felt his leg hit the edge of the bed. With one fluid movement, he lifted her from the floor, and tossed her onto the bedspread, covering her body with his, and earning himself a squeak of surprise from the hurricane in his arms. He grinned down at her, his eyes drinking in the way she seemed to glow from within, his very own source of light.

Felicity's heart started skipping beats, the moment his mouth lifted at the corners. Oliver had slipped into the playful, loving side of his personality that only she ever got to see. The way he looked at her, his eyes blazing with need, and yet, somehow, full of love and laughter, was enough to have her dissolving into a puddle of liquid fire. Oliver buried his head in the crook of her neck, raining kisses over her skin. He worked his way out to her shoulder, lavishing it with reverent touches of his lips. Felicity moaned softly, as her skin ignited under his mouth.

Oliver's knelt back, suddenly, pulling her up with him. He reached for the hem of her t-shirt, dragging it over her head to reveal the silky camisole she wore beneath it. He growled, a deep, possessive sound, at the sight of his color covering her ivory skin.

The sound vibrated through her, humming in every cell in her body. "See something you like?" she teased, breathlessly.

In answer to her question, he pushed her back into the mattress, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. Felicity hummed in approval, her fingers trailing up the hard contours of his muscled back. Oliver hooked a hand beneath each of her thighs, yanking them apart, and shifting himself so he was positioned between them. He seared open mouthed kisses along her clavicle, his tongue darting out to dip into the hollow of her throat, on his second pass. Felicity writhed beneath him, soft mewls escaping her, as her hands traveled his shoulders, his corded muscles rippling beneath her touch.

They took their time, trading devastating kisses and exploring each others bodies, dedicating every angle and contour to memory. After five years of waiting, this experience was something neither of them wanted to rush, instead lavishing in the freedom of finally being together, in the only way they'd never been.

Felicity arched against him, when his teeth grazed over the swell of her breast. The moan that tore from her throat might have been embarrassing, had she been with anyone but Oliver. She felt the curl of his lips against her skin, as he continued his journey down her body. She involuntarily tensed when she felt his fingers brush the skin below her navel, beneath her cami. He stilled, for half a beat, before he lowered his head, his lips sliding over the fabric. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles into her skin, soothing her, until he felt her relax under him.

Oliver let his hands slide up her waist, guiding the hem of her top up, as they went. With every inch of skin he exposed, he peppered her flesh with the lightest of kisses. He skirted the edges of the bandages at her hips, the rough stubble on his face just barely brushing her skin, as his mouth moved over her. Her fingers came down to card through his hair, encouragingly. His lips traveled up her torso, littering kisses and trails of heat, in their wake. When he reached her ribcage, right below the curve of her breast, his tongue slipped out to sweep wetly along its round edge. Felicity sighed with pleasure, her fingers tightening in his hair.

Oliver worked his way back down her body, every movement achingly slow. His lips grazed the waist of her pajama pants, and his fingers hooked into it. Felicity lifted her hips, allowing him to drag the pants over her thighs, and down her legs. Throwing the garment to the floor, behind him, he turned back to her. His eyes raked over her body, stopping at her panties. A groan rumbled in his chest, and Felicity felt a grin tug at her lips, again.

"Did I forget to mention that this was a set?" she asked, motioning at the deep green fabric, her tone sensual, but teasing.

Something about the sight of her most intimate spots, sporting his color, sent a burst of white hot lust through Oliver. His erection ached with the need to bury itself inside her, to claim her body as his own. Oliver fought the beast that awakened in his chest, roaring its head in a bid to be heard. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move away from her.

Felicity frowned at him, until she saw him drop to his knees beside the bed. His hands shot out to grasp her by her thighs, and he dragged her to the edge of the bed. She gasped raggedly, at the same time moisture pooled between her thighs. Oliver started at her ankle, biting and sucking at her skin. His teeth scraped over the crease of her knee, sending shock waves of sensation right to her core. She felt his stubble on the inside of her thigh, and her breath caught in her throat. When his mouth ghosted over the panty-clad nub at the junction of her thighs, her body bowed off the bed, a strangled cry of need echoing around him. Oliver's teeth sank sharply into the flesh of her thigh, his tongue darting out the lave the sting away.

"Oh God..." Felicity moaned, her fingers bunching in the comforter on either side of her head.

Oliver slipped his hands under her ass, lifting her, and caught the waist of her boy shorts with his thumbs. He dragged them down her legs, revealing her folds, already slick with arousal. His eyes locked on hers, as he lowered his head, his lips brushing over her pelvic bone. He watched her, while his tongue slipped out to lash against the ridge of her hip. He slid his hands beneath her back, lifting her legs, to drape them over his shoulders.

Felicity couldn't tear her gaze away from his. His eyes were so intense, his mouth scorching on her skin. She was left a trembling mass of raw, pulsating need. The second he shifted, just a fraction of an inch, and his mouth grazed over her mound, a kaleidoscope of colors exploded behind her eyes. She threw her head back, squirming under him. His tongue slipped between her wet folds, drawing a whimper from her. She shuddered, her body nearly convulsing with pleasure, when he found the bundle of nerves that sent undiluted ecstasy ricocheting through her.

"Oliver..." she panted, her heels digging into his back, of their own volition.

"Hmmm." he hummed, his lips capturing her nub.

The sensation had her mind reeling, her breath coming in short, labored gasps. Oliver's tongue flicked, then swirled, around her clit, gliding lower, to tease at her entrance and every curse word she's ever heard careened through her head. She felt a single digit trace down her center, with hardly any hint of pressure, and couldn't stop the whimper that fell from her lips.

Tortuously slow, Oliver slid up her body, raining tantalizing kisses over her, once more. His lips torched the thin skin of her swollen breasts, where they peeked above the low neckline of her cami. Oliver scraped the fabric down, with his chin, exposing one rose colored pebble. He captured it, sucking it into the warm wetness of his mouth, rolling the taut bud between his teeth. At the same moment, he plunged one long finger into her dripping core, sending shock waves up her spine. She arched off the bed, her nails scratching down the steely sinew of his shoulders, her mouth falling open in a silent plea.

Oliver lifted his other hand to tangle in her hair, turning her head toward him, his eyes black with desire. Adding another finger to the first, he crooked them up, gliding them over the front wall of her core. "Look at me." he demanded, as her hips bucked into his palm.

Felicity's eyes flashed open, landing on his face. She could feel the telltale tightening in her belly, the rush of heat creeping its way up her chest, into her jaw. She whimpered, her hands coming up, nails biting into his chest.

"I want to see you, when you come." Oliver told her, his voice rough.

His hand moved with more force, his fingers working her expertly. She moaned, low and jagged, in her chest, and the sound urged him on. His fingers kept up their ministrations, coaxing her to the edge of a precipice she was dying to tumble into. His mouth found her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. His teeth nipped at the curve of her throat, up her jaw, and to the shell of her ear. The soft, panting, mewls turned into desperate, frenzied, begging sounds of need.

"Oh God..."

"Come, Felicity." he growled into her neck, the flat of his palm rubbing tight circles over her pulsing clit. He pulled back, to watch her, the hand in her hair clenching, tugging roughly in her strands.

All at once, her world shook. The heaviness in her belly reached a crescendo, and her walls spasmed around his fingers. Waves of molten release erupted from the core of her body, rippling outwards, as her legs stiffened. With one last brush of his palm, her body exploded, every nerve sizzling with blinding pleasure. A strangled scream tore from her chest, as her back arced, and her nails sank into the skin at his waist.

Oliver stroked her gently, letting her float back down slowly. He pressed lingering kisses across her chest, up her neck, and over her face, each one more tender and worshiping than the last.

Felicity, finally able to draw breath again, sought his lips. She caught them with her own, tasting herself, sweet and salty, lingering on his lips and tongue. Using her legs as leverage, she shifted, and managed to push Oliver onto his back, straddling his hips. She straightened, grinning triumphantly. Oliver reached for her waist, but she brushed his hands away.

"No." She shook her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "It's my turn."

To demonstrate her point, she rocked her pelvis, feeling his rigid length press deliciously between her legs. Oliver groaned, his head falling back against the mattress. Felicity leaned forward, her hair curtaining around her face, as she peppered wet, open mouthed kisses over the hard planes of his chest. She slid backward, her bee stung lips trailing over the dips and valleys of his abs. She nibbled and laved at the deep V of his Adonis Belt, grinning against his flesh when a feral growl rumbled deep in his chest, the vibrations reaching down to where her tongue met the waist of his pants.

Oliver fisted his hands into the comforter, fighting to restrain the beast, snarling and snapping, in his chest. Every muscle in his body corded, quivering with the strain. He wanted nothing more than to throw Felicity on her back, and bury his cock in her silken core, straight to the hilt. Every instinct he had told him to drag her body beneath his, and fuck her three ways from Sunday. But, this was Felicity. His heart held the overwhelming majority on his actions, when it came to her. He didn't want to ever do anything to hurt her, even if that meant reigning in his baser urges.

At least, that was the plan. Oliver was a man capable of great restraint, when such a quality was necessary. That was, until Felicity's mouth found it's way around his rock solid hard-on, and she blinked up at him at from behind her glasses, all innocence and purity. His resolve slipped, as she swirled her tongue around his crown, tasting the bit of moisture that beaded at the tip, her eyes locked on his. His grip on the reigns faltered, when she pulled his dick into the back of her throat, the flat of her tongue gliding over his length, as she hummed around him. Her tiny hands wrapped around the base of him, pumping him with measured strokes, and his hips surged up of their own will.

Oliver buried his fingers in her hair, his hand cupping her head as he guided her pace. His eyes raked over her body, following the line of her spine, to the delectable ass she had stuck up in the air, while her head bobbed between his thighs. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat, she moaned around him, and Oliver lost the last bit of leash he'd managed to hold over his beast.

"Felicity..." he growled, from between gritted teeth.

"Mmm?" she hummed, not releasing his cock from between her lips.

The vibrations made his fist clench tighter. "Condom. Nightstand."

Felicity let him slip from her mouth, as she shifted to grab a foil packet from the drawer. She'd barely closed her fingers around one, when he was suddenly flipping her over him. She squealed in surprise, as Oliver, with quick efficiency, pinned her beneath him, and knelt between her open legs.

With as few movements as possible, he was quickly sheathed in the condom, and positioning himself at her entrance. His eyes found hers, almost entirely black with lust. "I love you, damn it." He growled, as he grasped her thigh, hitched it over his hip, and plunged into her.

Her eyes rolled back, as her hips rocked up to meet his thrust. Buried as deeply as possible, Oliver froze, drinking in the sensation of finally being inside her. She was hot, and wet, and tight, and everything he'd always known she would be, but somehow so much more.

Felicity gasped, as he started to move. He was bigger than anyone she'd been with, but her body accepted him with ease, enveloping him like a glove. With every thrust, she found herself opening more to him, even as her legs tightened around his hips.

Oliver pulled out, to the very tip of his shaft and stilled. Felicity, who had been nibbling at his neck, pulled away, her eyes searching his face. Just as her brow furrowed in question, Oliver drove into her, grinning with pride when her head rolled back, a guttural moan falling from her lips. The beast in his chest took over, pushing into her with rough and punishing thrusts.

Felicity met his hips, with a frenzied passion, all her own. Her nails raked down his back, and she shivered as the feral moan tore from his chest. Her thighs gripped either side of his hips, as her pelvis lifted, searching for the friction her body so desperately ached for.

Oliver's hand slid up, behind her knee, and he pushed her leg toward her chest. The shift of her hips changed the angle, his cock hitting spots Felicity hadn't even known existed. She writhed beneath him, her fingers digging into his thigh as she she struggled to contain the orgasm building in her core. He felt her muscles tighten and flutter around him, the sensation pushing him closer to his own climax. His body beat against hers, throwing gasoline on the fire that consumed them. Seeking more contact, Oliver dropped her leg, his body falling to cover hers. His arms slipped under her back, coming up to grip her shoulders, as he pounded into her. The sounds of their labored breathing, and fervent moans filled the room, as they moved together, all hungry lips and nipping teeth. Felicity's hands delved into his hair, gripping it tightly, holding him to her lips as her tongue fought with his. Oliver shifted, moving one hand from her shoulder, to where there bodies were joined. His thumb found her pulsating nub, and circled it with insistent pressure.

Oliver's thrusts became more erratic, as he neared the edge. He increased the pressure of his thumb on her clit, as he hammered his hips against hers. Felicity was panting, cries of pleasure gasping through her lips, and rippling through him. The circles his thumb were rubbing, got tighter, so that he it was barely moving, but the pressure was perfect, tendrils of fire licking there way up Felicity's torso. He thrust, forcefully, one last time, and her body convulsed. Felicity's teeth sank into his shoulder, as she detonated around him. Every muscle in her body locked, as the orgasm tore through her.

"Oliver!" she cried, throwing her head back, her hair spilling out over the pillow.

His name, ripped from her lips at the height of pleasure, was enough to send him hurling over his own peak. His hips stuttered, as he emptied himself into her, buried in her heat. Every remaining ounce of energy that he had, was gone and he collapsed onto her.

Felicity grinned, when his weight settled on her. He was heavy, but damn if it wasn't one of the best feelings in the world, having him pressing down on her, just after he made her see stars. His weight and warmth, were comforting, almost peaceful. She let her fingers trail over his back, as he nuzzled his nose into her neck. The heat of his breath tickled over her skin, and she giggled.

Oliver shifted, to lift himself off of her, but she stopped him, with a hand between his shoulder blades. "Can we stay like this? Just for a minute?" Felicity asked, her tone soft and just a bit shy.

Oliver pushed up on his elbow, looking down into her face, pink with the flush that spread all the way down her chest. He dipped his head, brushing his lips tenderly over hers, before burying his face back into the crook of her neck.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of being in his arms, his body heavy and sated over hers. She'd been waiting so long to finally have a moment like this. A moment where no one, nothing, existed, but them.


	18. Back To Reality

**Author's note: I'm so thrilled at the response to the last chapter! I was ridiculously nervous about posting it so, the fact that you guys loved it, really makes me proud :) As a reward for your unfailing support, this chapter is extra long.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Oliver?" Felicity murmured, softly.

"Hmm?" he hummed against her throat.

"I love you, too, you know."

Oliver pushed up on his elbow, gazing down at her, a slightly amused expression gracing his handsome face. "I know." he assured her, his thumb coming up to graze her bottom lip.

She smiled, catching the digit between her teeth, and sucking gently. Oliver kissed the corner of her mouth, before she released his thumb, and he rolled off of her. Felicity tried not to pout at the loss of his warmth, while she watched him cross the room to the bathroom.

Sighing, she rose from the bed, and lifted her arms over her head, stretching. There was a dull ache in her hip, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She found her panties on the floor, and slipped them on. Clicking on the bedside lamp, she began making her way around the room, blowing out candles.

Oliver returned a few seconds later, cleaned up, but still stark naked. He grinned as he strode toward the other side of the room, and started helping her blow out candles, no hint of modesty or self-consciousness to be seen. "I can take care of the candles, Felicity. Get back in bed." he told her.

She didn't need to be told twice. Felicity jumped back into the massive bed, bouncing and giggling as she landed. Rocking back, and lifting her legs, she dragged the comforter down, and slipped beneath it. "Hey!" she called, when a thought struck her. "Where are my fish?"

Oliver chuckled, pointing at the nightstand on her side of the bed. Felicity leaned over, pulling open the drawer. Sure enough, there sat a bag of Swedish Fish, along with a small blue flower, whose center was a deep purple. She lifted both, raising the flower to her nose and inhaling its sweet, yet spicy, scent. "Oliver, what's this?" she asked, twirling the bloom between her fingers.

A soft smile teased up the corners of his mouth. "It's called a Bachelor's Button." Oliver explained, as he blew out the last of the candles. He stopped to drag on his pajama pants, and came to join her on the bed. "The florist said that it means 'Felicity'."

The smile that curled her lips couldn't have been contained, if she'd tried. "You found a flower that literally means, not happiness, but felicity?"

"For me, they're the same thing." he informed her, kissing her shoulder softly, as he pulled her against his side, one arm looped around her waist.

Felicity snuggled into his warmth, grinning like a fool. "So, this was your craving? Candles and little blue flowers?"

Oliver laughed, nuzzling his nose against her earlobe, his stubble rubbing the thin skin next to her hairline. "Not exactly." he clarified. "My craving was for you. I didn't have any condoms, so I had to go out, anyway. The candles and the flower were my way of making our first time together special."

"It would have been special, either way, Oliver." Felicity lifted the small flower to her nose, once more. "But, this was very sweet of you."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, before a thought struck her. "You didn't have any condoms?" Felicity asked.

"No." Oliver shook his head. "I can't even tell you the last time I bought them."

She thought over that, morbid curiosity getting the better of her. "Can I ask you something?" she ventured.

"Sure." He shrugged.

"When's the last time you were... _with_ someone?" The way she asked the question made it clear she was dreading the answer.

"Felicity." Oliver said quietly, turning her in his arms so he could see her face. "I haven't slept with anyone since a month after the night at Verdant."

She felt her eyes go wide. "Really?" Of all the answers that she had expected, had made herself swear to accept, that one hadn't been among them.

Oliver nodded. "Really. There was a girl, at a bar. But, afterward... I felt like shit. I felt guilty, like I was betraying you, and I hated it. There was only one woman that I wanted to be with, and if I couldn't have her, I didn't want anyone else."

"So, all this time, you've been... you haven't..." Felicity stuttered, shocked by his confession.

"There hasn't been anyone, but you, for me, since then." said Oliver. But, her questioning tone made him ponder the same query. "Have you? Been with someone, since then?"

"No." Felicity quickly denied. "I told you, that night, that I was holding onto us."

"Holding on, and waiting for, are two different things." Oliver pointed out.

"Not for me. Not when it comes to you." She shook her head.

Oliver tightened his arms around her, squeezing her firmly. "I'll never understand how I got so lucky."

"I have a superhero fetish." She smirked.

Oliver narrowed his eyes. He shifted, dragging her body beneath his, pinning her to the mattress with his hips, as she giggled. "I better be the only superhero you have a fetish for, Miss Smoak." he growled, darkly.

Felicity just kept grinning, fighting the giggles rising in her belly. "I don't know, Mr. Queen." she pretended to consider the thought. "Have you seen Clark when he dons the cape?"

Oliver's objection rumbled deep in his chest, drawing another bout of giggles from the blonde beneath him. "Felicity." he warned.

"And, Bruce has that awesome car..." She trailed off, laughter lighting her eyes.

Another growl reverberated through him, and she felt it in her own chest. Felicity brought a hand up to cup his cheek, lifting her head to press a reassuring kiss to his lips. "Oliver" She smiled up at him. "You are the only superhero, the only man, that I love. You are_ my _hero. You have to know that."

"Good." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'd hate to have to tell Lois that you have thing for her husband."

Felicity laughed, as Oliver rolled onto his back, taking her with him, so that she was sprawled out over his chest. She rested her chin between his pecs, smiling up at him."It's only fair. She has a thing for my boyfriend."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"

Felicity nodded. "It's only when you're in uniform. I think it's the whole 'mysterious archer' thing, even though she knows who you are, underneath the hood."

"Huh." Oliver mused. "So, what is it for you?"

"You or Clark?" Felicity teased, cocking a brow.

"Me." Oliver clarified, grinning. "What is it about me, that makes me your hero of choice?"

"It was never a choice." Felicity stated, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I started falling for you the moment the words 'Hi. I'm Oliver Queen.' left your mouth, and I just never stopped. It was slow, at first. More of a crush, than anything. And then, I really got to know you, to see who you were beneath the grease paint and the leather. I got to see the gentle, tender side, that you think no one knows about. I learned about the dark, fractured parts of your soul, and I just couldn't stop the fall. My crush turned into something so much more, and I didn't stand a chance in hell of fighting it."

"You never wanted to fix me?" Oliver asked, his tone curious.

"You aren't broken, Oliver." She informed him, as her fingers played with the arrowhead laying on his chest. "Why would I want to fix you, when I fell in love with who you are? I don't love you in spite of your flaws, Oliver, or even because of them. I love you because of who you are."

"And, who am I, Felicity?" He questioned, wanting to hear who she saw when she looked at him.

"You're Oliver Queen." She pressed a kiss over his heart. "You're loyal, and passionate. You're possessive and protective, yet you're still capable of sitting back and letting the people you love make mistakes, and learn from them. You're kind, and giving, and you care about people, even when they don't make it easy. Your smile is rare, but when it's there, it's blinding, and never fails to make my heart skip a beat. Your laugh is something that I can feel all the way down to my toes, and it's irresistible. I can't help but smile when I hear it, because you really don't laugh enough. You have so much love in you, but you're terrified to show it, because you think it makes you weak, even though it gives you strength. You're jealous, demanding, stubborn and a giant pain in the ass. But, you have a good heart, and you're stronger than anyone I've ever known. There's no one like you, in the world."

Oliver was beyond surprised by her response. "You see all of that, in me?"

"I see all of that, and so much more, in you." She pushed herself up his body, to brush his lips with hers. "If there's only one thing you believe, believe that."

* * *

"Remember me saying that you were a stubborn pain in the ass?" Felicity bit out, frustrated. "This would be why!"

"If you would just stop arguing, this wouldn't even be an issue." Oliver informed her, fighting to contain the grin that wanted to plaster itself on his face, at her attitude.

"I've been out of work for a month and a half, Oliver!" she argued. "Dr. Tenner cleared me to go back, so why are you fighting me on this?"

"Because, you can afford to take one more week off, Felicity." he told her, grabbing his briefcase from the foyer table. He stepped closer, to kiss her goodbye, but she turned, offering him her cheek. The grin broke through, as he kissed her. "Enjoy the free time, while you can."

Felicity glared at him, before turning to Diggle. "John." she begged. "Talk to him?"

"No way am I getting in the middle of this." Digg shook his head, putting his palms up, and taking a step back. "This is a lover's quarrel, and I have no desire to get my head bit off."

Felicity huffed, almost stomping her feet, just to have an outlet that didn't involve pulling out her hair. "You, Oliver Jonas Queen, are going to regret this."

Digg snorted at the use of his middle name, while Oliver just rolled his eyes. "I'll see you after work."

Diggle offered her a consolatory squeeze of her shoulder, as he followed Oliver out the front door. Felicity turned on her heel, immediately dragging her phone from the pocket of her jeans, and dialing Thea's number.

"Your brother is the most insanely infuriating person that I have ever met." Felicity grated, her face flushed with anger, when the younger woman answered the phone.

"Good morning to you, too, Licity." Thea laughed. "What did he do now?"

"He's refusing to let me come back to work for at least another week! I've got medical clearance and everything, but he won't budge." Felicity explained, making her way up the stairs, toward the bedroom.

"Is having an extra week off really such a bad thing?" Thea asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

"It wouldn't be, if he didn't have a temporary assistant who was on the hunt for her next meal ticket." Felicity huffed.

"You're not actually jealous, are you?" Thea balked, her tone incredulous. "Ollie loves you, Felicity. You seriously have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not jealous, per se." Felicity tried to defend herself. "I just hate the idea of her being there, throwing herself at him, every chance she gets."

"You're jealous." Thea informed her, and she could hear the smile in her voice. "Look, if it bothers you so much, why don't you just go to the office, and see for yourself? Maybe, if you meet her, you'll like her. Then, you'll be able to relax a little, and enjoy the last week off."

Felicity sighed. It actually was a decent idea. "Fine." she relented. "I'll go and meet her."

"See? Sister-in-law to the rescue." Thea joked.

Ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the casual way Thea referenced she and Oliver being married, Felicity changed the subject. "So, how is everything with you guys?"

"Things are good." Thea began gushing. "Roy got a position in Wayne Enterprise's weapons department. He gets to test out the new weaponry, as soon as it comes off the line."

"That sounds like the perfect position for him." Felicity smiled.

"It really is." Thea agreed. "And, I'm learning a lot. Though, I'm leaps and bounds ahead of most of the other paid interns. Which, I have you to thank for."

"You were a quick study." Felicity laughed lightly.

"Speaking of study, I have a shift in half an hour. I gotta go. Text me later, and let me know how it went with Gold-Digger Barbie?"

Felicity laughed, feeling much better than she had when she'd dialed Thea. "Sure. Give Roy a hug for me."

After she hung up, Felicity found herself staring blankly at Oliver's closet. Half of the rack space held her wardrobe, the other half, his array of suits and dress shirts. The sight still gave her a warm feeling, in her belly, and she couldn't resist the smile that curled her lips. She sifted through her clothes, searching for something that was appropriate for an office, but sexier than what she would wear when she was working. Looking her best, would make her feel like she had the upper hand with Leena, and she needed every advantage she could get.

She hadn't lied to Thea. She wasn't exactly jealous of this woman, whom she had never met. She disliked her approach to life, looking for a man to take care of her, instead of making her own way. She hated that she was working so closely with Oliver, who, Felicity was sure, was right up her alley as far as targets went. The mere idea sent cold fingers of unease down her spine.

After about forty-five minutes of deliberation, Felicity decided on a dress, and laid it out on the bed, before heading for the shower.

An hour later, she was curling her hair into wide curls, standing in the middle of Oliver's bathroom, singing along with a catchy pop song floating out of the radio she insisted on keeping on the vanity. She took her time, making sure each curl was perfect, and then pinning it so it held its shape. Another hour had passed, by the time all of her hair was curled, and setting. Deciding against her glasses, she popped in her contacts.

Making her way back to the bedroom, Felicity shimmied into the dress. It was a black pencil dress with a red lace bodice, from hip to shoulder, and a deep, scalloped neckline. It had a sheer lace back panel, that gave it just the right amount of allure. She accented it with a pair of screaming red peep toe pumps, and decided to keep her make-up simple, only darkening her eyes with a bit of smoke, while keeping everything else toned down.

She unpinned her curls, letting them fall loosely around her shoulders, and ran her fingers through them to soften them. Swiping on a velvet red lipstick, she glanced in the mirror. She turned from side to side, giving herself a thorough once over. Smiling at her reflection, she could already imagine the look on Oliver's face when when she stepped into his office.

Felicity went to her jewelery box, sitting on top of her dresser, and slipped in a pair of simple diamond studs, a gift from her parents, on her eighteenth birthday. She made sure her bow pendant was tucked under the neckline of her dress, grabbed a long, solid black, coat from the closet, and headed for the garage.

She had to hunt through the key rack to find the replacement key chain Oliver had bought her. She found the little silver panda bauble, after a few minutes of hunting, and made her way to her car.

* * *

Traffic wasn't bad, on the drive to QC, and she made it less than half an hour. She was greeted warmly in the lobby by Carl, the security guard with whom she'd made friends way back when she worked in IT.

"You back to work today?" The older man asked, his salt and pepper mustache wiggling as he talked.

"Not until next week. I'm just here to take Mr. Queen to lunch."

As she said the more formal "Mr. Queen" rather than using his first name, a thought rose to the surface of her mind. Felicity was surprised to realize that they hadn't discussed making an official announcement about their relationship. Of course, everyone already assumed they were a couple, so she wasn't sure if it mattered, but she made a mental note to ask him about it.

"Well, I'm glad to see your face around here, again." Carl told her, warmly. "And, looking like a million bucks, I might add." He winked.

Felicity chuckled, shaking her head. "Thank you, Carl. It's my first real outing in over a month, so I decided to doll up a little."

They chatted for another minute, before Felicity excused herself, aware that Oliver would be heading to lunch any minute. She boarded the elevator, which was blissfully empty. She managed to make it to Oliver's floor, only having to make two stops along the way. Stepping out of the elevator, she took a deep breath to prepare herself for meeting her temporary replacement.

When she came around the corner, Felicity had to physically stop her feet from faltering. The woman, who was crossing the room from a filing cabinet, to the desk, was beautiful, just as she had expected. Her dark hair was twisted back in a messy bun, that still somehow managed to look professional. She filled out her blue skirt and white blouse like nobody's business, and Felicity felt the stirrings of self-consciousness assuage her, as Leena settled into the desk chair. Her porcelain skin was flawless, dusted with a light smattering of freckles across the bride of her nose, her lips full and just this side of pouty. Leena really was gorgeous.

_This is your office, and your boyfriend, Felicity! _She reprimanded herself. _Take a deep breath, relax, and keep your chin up. _

Doing as she was told, Felicity lifted her chin, unbuttoned her jacket to reveal her dress, and stepped in front of the desk. The brunette didn't so much as look up from her computer. Felicity cleared her throat, lightly. Leena held up a finger, indicating she wanted Felicity to wait. She bit her tongue, to stop the snarky comment from leaving her lips. She'd come here to calm her nerves about this situation, not make it worse. Felicity counted to ten, risking a quick glance into Oliver's office. He was on a call, and Diggle's back was to the glass, so neither of them noticed her.

She cleared her throat, again. With an eye roll, Leena lifted her gaze to Felicity, no ounce of recognition crossing her face, as she glanced her up and down. Of course, she'd never met Felicity, so she wouldn't have recognized her, but the fact still sent a bit of annoyance through her veins. Something about the look in the brunettes eyes didn't settle well, with Felicity. She found herself feeling defensive, and slightly off balance.

"Hi. I'm Felicity Smoak." Felicity offered, letting, what she hoped was, a pleasant smile grace her lips. "I'm-"

"Do you have an appointment?" Leena inquired, glancing at the date book on the desk in front of her.

"He's not expecting me, but-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Queen is on an important business call, and has asked not to be disturbed. I can take a message, if you'd like." Leena cut her off, again, in the fake nice voice Felicity was all too familiar with.

Felicity drew in a breath, trying to stop the surge of annoyance flaring in her chest. She hadn't been asking for permission to enter his office, knowing she didn't need it. But, if Oliver was in the middle of an important call, she didn't want to interrupt. She debated for all of five seconds, before simply stepping away from the desk and pulling out her cellphone. She texted Digg, since Oliver was still on the phone.

**Assuming that neither of you wants to explain how the CEO's executive assistant ended up arrested for aggravated assault, with a stapler, I suggest you come out here and get me.**

She hit send, and waited. Diggle reached into his jacket, and removed his phone. Felicity watched him read the message, his head shooting up, eyes searching for her. She smiled tightly, tilting her head, when his gaze landed on her. He chuckled, turned to Oliver, and must have said something, because Oliver's head was the next to snap up. He looked confused for a moment, before a smile split his face, and he waved her in. Without looking back at Leena, Felicity pushed into the office, her tight smile becoming more genuine, as Digg rose to greet her.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, as he helped her shrug out of her jacket.

"I wanted to take Oliver out to lunch." she explained, quietly, keeping it at a half truth.

Digg let out a low whistle, when she turned to face him. The sound got Oliver's attention, and Felicity watched him swallow thickly as his eyes raked down her body. She grinned, twirling on the spot, earning herself a bright smile in return.

"Well, since you're here, I'm going to bring Lyla something for lunch. Text me when you're heading to the Foundry." Digg spoke to Felicity, keeping his voice low.

She nodded her understanding, as she settled into one of the chairs in front of Oliver's desk. Digg leaned close to her ear, whispering. "You look fantastic, by the way."

"Thanks, John." She grinned, as he squeezed her shoulder, before heading out the door.

Oliver barely noticed him leave, as he finished up the business call. Felicity only understood bits and pieces, since he was speaking in Russian. Oliver had been trying to teach her the language for the last few years, but she still only had a basic knowledge if it. He dropped the phone into its cradle, and lifted smiling eyes to hers.

"I wasn't expecting to see you, here, today." he said.

How in the world did he manage to sound reprimanding and happy to see her, in the same breath?

"You said I couldn't come back to work. You didn't say anything about coming to take you to lunch." Felicity reasoned.

"I'll assume you didn't bring a guard with you." He lifted a brow in question, shaking his head when she only smiled. "Of course not." He sighed.

Felicity changed the subject. "Your assistant doesn't know who I am." she stated, letting her annoyance with the woman bleed into her words.

"She's never met you, Felicity." He pointed out, which she had already told herself. Even from him, it didn't seem to matter.

"She didn't want to let me in, because you were on a call! I'm you're EA, Oliver. I also happen to be your girlfriend!" she whisper-shouted, indignantly.

Oliver fought to keep the grin off his face. "Did you tell her that?"

"I shouldn't have to." Felicity pouted. "Does she even know you have a girlfriend?"

This time Oliver chuckled. "She's been made aware of it, yes."

Felicity rose from her chair, making her way around his desk. Oliver turned his chair toward her, letting her step between his legs. She leaned down to him, dipping her head, and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, as her palm settled on his chest, and his hands lifted to grip her waist. She drew back, and winked, grinning devilishly.

Oliver shook his head, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Who knew Felicity Smoak was territorial?"

"I did." She laughed as she straightened. "It's just one more thing we have in common."

"So, are you actually taking me to lunch, or is that outfit just for me, and Leena?" Oliver prodded.

"I don't know." she teased, with a shrug. "Digg seemed to appreciate it."

"Digg is not someone I'd ever have to worry about."

"No one is someone you'd ever have to worry about." she reminded him, nudging his shoe with the toe of her pumps. "The man just has good taste."

"That he does." Oliver smirked. "Lunch?" he asked, again.

"Whatever you want." Felicity stepped back, to let him stand.

Oliver grasped her by the elbow, tugging her forward, so that there was barely any distance between them. He lowered his head, to whisper in her ear. "Does that include skipping lunch and going right to dessert?"

"I already skipped breakfast, so no." She laughed, running her open hand down the front of his blazer. "A girl's gotta eat."

Oliver chuckled. "Fine, food first." he agreed, snagging her coat from the chair she'd been occupying. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Leena." He held out a hand and she threaded her fingers between his.

Felicity let him lead her out of his office, where they came to a stop in front of her desk, currently occupied by the buxom brunette. Leena looked up at the sound of their arrival, her eyes zeroing in on their joined hands.

"Leena, this is Felicity Smoak." He gestured toward Felicity. "My girlfriend." The woman eyes widened a fraction, but she remained silent. "Felicity, this is Leena Devereux, my temporary assistant."

Felicity noted, and appreciated, the subtle way he emphasized the word "temporary". "It's nice to officially meet you, Leena." She smiled at the other woman, feeling fractionally more friendly, now that Oliver's hand was clasped in hers.

"Miss Smoak." Leena acknowledged, with a slight dip of her head, and a tight smile.

"In the future," Oliver began, "please keep in mind, my asking not to be disturbed does not apply to Miss Smoak."

"Of course, Mr. Queen." Leena accepted the statement, her eyes shifting from Oliver, to Felicity, and back.

"I'm leaving for the day." Oliver further informed her, as he helped Felicity into her jacket.

"You have a meeting with the Applied Sciences division at 9 o'clock, tomorrow morning." she reminded him glancing at the calendar on the desk.

"Thank you, Leena." Oliver offered her a sharp nod, and then led Felicity toward the elevators.

"Applied Sciences?" Felicity asked, under her breath.

Oliver glanced at her, a smile ticking up the corner of his lips. "We're discussing the creation of a new position within their department."

"Is Charlie part of this discussion?" she asked, concerned.

Felicity was well acquainted with Charles O'Brien. Being in IT, she'd spent a lot of time in the Applied Sciences department, both by request of her skills, and because she simply loved the work they were doing. She and Charlie had become friendly, and she'd hate to see him railroaded by the higher ups in the company. She fondly remembered long conversations shared over plans for new projects, both of them talking excitedly.

"It was Charles' idea, actually." Oliver explained, as he guided her into the elevator.

"Oh! I wasn't aware that he was even considering creating a new position." Felicity let the news roll around in her mind, as the doors slid closed, and Oliver hit the button for the ground floor. "Who's up for it?" She hit the button for the garage. "I drove." she supplied, when Oliver looked at her quizzically.

Oliver nodded. "Well, Charles made a request but, since the position involves two separate departments, it has to be voted on by the board."

"Two departments?" Felicity questioned.

"Can we talk about this later? I'd like to leave the office, at the office, for a while." Oliver smiled at her, bringing her against his chest, with an arm around her waist.

"Would you rather discuss where we're going for lunch?" Felicity tilted her head back, to grin up at him.

"I can get us in at Table Salt, if you want." he shrugged, withdrawing his phone from his pocket.

"Sounds good to me. I've been craving their tiramisu for days."

Twenty minutes later, Oliver was helping Felicity out of her coat, before handing it to the coat check attendant, along with his own. They followed the maitre d' to a table at the front of the restaurant, by a set of large windows.

"Can I get you something to drink, to start with, Mr. Queen?" Their waitress asked, as she approached the table.

"A bottle of the 2009 Chateau La Mondotte Saint-Emilion, please."

Felicity smirked at the request, knowing full well there was no point in telling him it was too much. Fine wine was a cross she just had to bear, being a dining partner for Oliver Queen. She'd gotten used to it, years ago, and had, since then, enjoyed fleshing out her wine tasting list.

"Very well, sir." The waitress nodded, setting a menu on the table for each of them, before turning to fetch the wine.

"I'm pretty sure your fondness for red wine keeps this city's restaurant business in the black, all on its own." Oliver glanced over his menu, a grin tugging at his lips.

Felicity snorted. "I think it's your propensity for spoiling me, that accomplishes that."

He lifted his eyes to hers. "I like spoiling you, Felicity."

"I'm well aware of that fact." She smiled.

"You don't like asking for things, though." Oliver noted, not for the first time.

"True enough." Felicity conceded. "But, I appreciate them, nonetheless."

"I know that you do." Oliver assured her. "Which is why I enjoy it so much."

"So, I talked to Thea this morning." Felicity told him, as their waitress came back to pour their wine.

"I haven't heard from her in days." Oliver realized.

"In all fairness, I called her. I needed someone to vent to."

"About my being an ass, this morning?" Oliver lifted a brow, grinning.

"Exactly." Felicity shot him a grin of her own. "She said Roy got a position with Bruce, testing new weaponry."

"Good." Oliver gave a short nod. "Maybe that will keep him out of trouble while they're out there."

"The internship is only six months, Oliver. How much trouble can he really get into in that short amount of time?" Oliver gave her an "are you kidding?" look, and Felicity had to laugh. "Okay, I see your point. But, I was thinking..."

Oliver watched her expectantly when she hesitated. "Thinking what?" he prodded.

"Well, when they get home, they're both going to need day jobs. I mean, yeah, Thea could go back to running Verdant, but you hired Josh, and he's doing a great job of managing the place. And, she might want to flex her IT muscles, after learning so much at Wayne Enterprises. Plus, Roy really is way too talented to be wasting his skills. Maybe, you could find a place for them at QC." She pulled in a deep breath, and sipped her wine, cutting off her own babble.

"You want me to hire Roy and Thea." It wasn't really a question, as much as Oliver thinking over the idea.

"Well, you've always said what a good idea it was to have Digg and I so close, during the day. The same would probably apply to them. Plus, it would cut down on the amount of back and forth between QC and Verdant. Thea would obviously do well in IT, and I'm sure Roy would do well in Applied Sciences, given the right position."

"Huh..." Oliver's brow furrowed, as he considered it. "QC is Thea's legacy, as much as it's mine." He rubbed a hand across his chin, contemplating the idea.

Felicity was quiet, letting him consider the idea. She'd said her peace, and she didn't want to sway his decision beyond that. Glancing down at her menu, she busied herself choosing her meal.

"I'll discuss this with Thea, the next time I talk to her. I'd like to hear what she and Roy think, before I start shifting people around." Oliver nodded decisively, after a few minutes. He was aware that Thea wanted to prove herself, outside of the Queen name, but she might reconsider, given the right offer.

Felicity looked up from her menu, a smile gracing her lips. "Good idea." she agreed.

Their waitress returned, ready to take their orders. Felicity decided on a grilled chicken Ceasar salad, while Oliver opted for the caprese salad with balsamic vinaigrette.

As the waitress strode away, Oliver stared at Felicity for a beat, before a secretive smile split his face. "You know, maybe you should come to the meeting with Charles and his team, in the morning."

Felicity was surprised by his train of thought. "Me? Why?"

"Since you seem to have so many ideas about staffing, it might help to have an extra set of eyes."

"I thought you were just voting on the new position?" Her eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"We are." Oliver's grin was getting progressively wider.

"Are you just trying to appease me, by asking me to attend a meeting, so I'll stop bothering you about coming back to work?" Felicity asked, narrowing her eyes, suspiciously.

"Would it work, if I were?"

Felicity thought it over. "Maybe. Will I be attending as your EA or in a strictly personal capacity?"

"My EA. I'll give Leena the day off." Oliver took out his phone to send an email to her, as he spoke. "After the meeting, we'll take the rest of the day, and do something fun, just the two of us."

"Do I get to pick what we do?" Felicity negotiated.

"Absolutely not." He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers, the smile never leaving his face.

"Do I get to pester you with questions, until you fold, and tell me what we're doing?"

"Well, I can't very well deny a major facet of you're personality, now, can I?" Oliver chuckled, teasing her.

Felicity's phone sent out a shrill tone, alerting her to a notification from her tracking program. With furrowed brows, she took the phone from Oliver, who'd been carrying it in the pocket of his suit jacket. She entered her pass code, and swiped her finger over the screen, reading the alert that flashed across its surface.

"Shit." she mumbled.

"What is it?" Oliver asked, quietly, leaning forward in his seat. Felicity turned the phone toward him, letting him read the screen. His eyes darkened, his face slipping into the hard mask he donned when he was angry.

"It's okay, Oliver." She tried to soothe him. "Someone was bound to see us, at some point." She gave the alert another once over, clicking the link to a gossip site, and reading the accompanying story, this time.

"**Oliver Queen: Spotted!"**

"**Out to lunch, at Table Salt, with his executive assistant, and rumored longtime girlfriend, Felicity Smoak.  
****Smoak hasn't been seen in public in over a month, since her kidnapping, and brutal torture, at the hands of, none other than, Count Vertigo, who is now confirmed dead, by authorities.  
****Let's hope that this outing is a sign that Miss Smoak, who is looking gorgeous, is ready to return to the land of the living. There has been a distinct lack of Queen gossip in the headlines, as of late, which we'd like to see rectified."**

"There's going to be a swarm of paparazzi outside, any minute." Oliver muttered, darkly. His face looked as though it were carved from stone, as he spoke. The second the words left his mouth, her phone trilled four more times, notifying her that four other sites had posted their location. "Come on." Oliver stood, holding a hand out for her.

"Oliver, we don't have to leave. I can handle a few flash bulbs." Felicity attempted to talk him down, even though the idea of facing a horde of photographers made her stomach clench, and twist with anxiety.

"Not today, not yet." Oliver shook his head, as he threw money on the table. He extended a hand to her, once more, not giving her the option to argue.

Felicity felt a spark of anger light in her chest, but she bit her tongue. She knew he was just trying to protect her, even if he had a heavy handed method of doing so. Grudgingly, she slipped her hand into his, and followed him to the coat check window. He handed their ticket to the teenager behind the counter, whose eyes kept running the length of Felicity's body. Oliver cleared his throat, giving him a pointed look, and the boy scampered off to find their coats. Turning to the maitre d', Oliver nodded, and the man called out to the valet, to have Felicity's car pulled around.

"He's just a kid, Oliver. There's no need for the aggression." Felicity chided, when he returned his attention back to the coat check window.

Oliver ignored the comment, taking the coats, and slipping the younger man a decent tip, as he did so. Oliver held up her jacket, and Felicity slid it on, stepping away from him to button it. She kept her back turned, as Oliver slipped into his own jacket. She felt his hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the door, so she compelled her feet to move.

As soon as Oliver opened the door, a wall of flashing lights assaulted them, leaving Felicity blind to where she was going. Oliver curled an arm around her shoulders, tucking her to his side, as he pushed his way through the shouting mass of cameras and paparazzi. Each of them was calling her name, trying to get a clear photograph, but Oliver shoved them back, keeping her turned toward his side, as he led her through the throng.

The sight of her car came into view, and for a spit second Felicity thought she was home free.

That was, until she felt a rough hand at her wrist, dragging her arm back, and heard a man's voice shouting near her ear. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't be like that."

Ice crashed through her veins, and her entire body went rigid against Oliver's side. Her blood roared a wild cacophony in her ears, her heart thundering against her ribs, as her lungs squeezed in her chest. Her eyes began to cloud, her head swimming violently She felt Oliver turn, putting her between the wall of his body, and the cold metal of her car. He grabbed the photographer by the wrist, and the man quickly released Felicity's arm. She brought it to her chest, rubbing at the, still overly sensitive, skin.

Oliver was seeing red, the edges of his vision blurring crimson. He'd heard the words the photog had shouted, before he'd seen where he held Felicity's wrist. The wide eyed fear on her face had been so painfully apparent, that Oliver had felt his rage flood to the surface. "Do. Not. Touch. Her." he snarled, standing toe to toe with the photographer, as the rest of them fell back, just a few steps.

"Oliver, please. Let's just go!" Felicity begged, from behind him. She felt dizzy, and unsteady, and the last thing she wanted to do was faint in front of a crowd of paparazzi.

The photographer smirked, as Oliver turned around, to open the door for Felicity, hearing the desperate plea in the tone of her voice. She sank into the seat, on shaking legs, her fists clenched tightly. Oliver was just about to shut the door, when Felicity heard the photographer's voice, again.

"Tell me, Mr. Queen. Do you bang all of your assistants, or is this one special?" he called, tauntingly.

Felicity tried to grab Oliver's arm, to stop him from reacting, but he was spinning away from her, before she could band her fingers around his arm. He lunged for the photog, his fist landing solidly against the mans jaw. Felicity gasped, and even over the noise of the crowd, she was sure she heard the crack of bone breaking. The guy hit the ground like a ton of bricks, completely unconscious.

Straightening his jacket, Oliver walked away, in a haze of flashing cameras. He closed her door, and made his way around to the driver's side, without sparing a glance behind him. Lowering himself into the seat beside her, Oliver adjusted it backward when his legs wedged against the bottom of the steering wheel. He glanced at her his eyes softening at the frightened expression she wore. Without a word, he pulled away from the curb, and headed toward the mansion.

After several deep breaths, and a few failed attempts at speaking, Felicity managed to get the words to leave her mouth. "Why did you do that, Oliver?" she demanded, fear and anger warring for dominance in her tone.

"The guy was an asshole, Felicity. He deserved it." Oliver told her, evenly, though she could still feel the fury rolling off of him, could see the way his jaw clenched.

"He was trying to get a rise out of you. And, you let him do it!" Felicity shouted, as her hands shook in their path through her hair.

"He had no right to touch you!" Oliver shouted back, his restraint slipping. "You think that I didn't see the fear in your eyes when he grabbed your wrist?"

"Of course I was afraid! But, that doesn't mean you had to punch him. He's probably going to file a lawsuit, now." She was still yelling, as she fought the tears that blurred her vision. She knew she needed to calm down, to get a grip on the anxiety flooding her system, but she couldn't seem to control it.

"Let him! It was worth it, to break his jaw." Oliver barked, his fists clenching around the steering wheel.

Felicity dragged in a ragged breath, holding it until the worst of the panic subsided. "You don't get it, do you?" She finally whispered, blinking back tears.

Oliver looked over at her, but she was already turning her body away from him, angling herself toward the window, so that he couldn't see the tears that managed to escape.

"Felicity." He tried to get her to turn around, but she firmly ignored him. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Oliver." she mumbled, angrily.

"Then will you please tell me why you're so upset with me?" he asked, glancing at the back of her head.

She didn't respond. She was fighting to clamp down on what was left of the panic that had risen in her throat when the photographer had spoken to her. His words, reminiscent of words The Count had murmured, against her ear, just the same as The Count had done, had made Felicity flash back to that pitch black room. His hand, banded around her wrist, had dredged up the memory of her wrists being bound behind her back, the rope digging into her flesh. Fear had engulfed her, when she was already annoyed with Oliver for his domineering attitude at the restaurant. There hadn't been a thing she could do to stop the adrenaline that had surged through her, making her limbs shaky and making her feel uncomfortable in her own skin.

Oliver pulled up to the front door of the mansion, and Felicity bolted from the car. She ignored Oliver as he called to her, instead, striding quickly around the side of the house, her heels sinking into the soft grass as she went. Through the blur of tears, she found her way to a bench, in the middle of the garden, at the back of the house. She collapsed onto it, finally succumbing to her tears.

They were angry tears. Anger at herself for letting her fear get the better of her, when she knew Oliver was right beside her, keeping her safe. Anger at Oliver, for letting that stupid paparazzi get under his skin, to the point where he felt the need to physically retaliate. More anger, at herself, for not having a better handle on her emotions. They were tears of frustration, and anger. Fear and panic. Anxiety and annoyance.

Felicity stood, wandering silently, staring into the garden, which was bare and miserable, this early in the spring, when it was still chilly, and green had yet to sprout from the earth. It seemed an appropriate setting, if she thought about it. She meandered distractedly, following the stone path through the massive garden, letting her mind wander, in an effort to calm her frazzled emotions.

When her anger melted away, she was left feeling cold, and lonely. She felt badly for using her loud voice on Oliver, even though a stubborn part of her was sure he deserved it. And, judging by the fact that he hadn't yet come after her, she was sure he knew he deserved it, too. Regardless, fighting with him was one thing she truly hated, and they'd done their fair share of it, today.

Glancing at her phone, she found that almost two hours had passed. Felicity took a deep breath, to steady herself, and turned to head back around to the front of the house. As she stepped out of the garden, the glass doors from the kitchen to the yard, slid open. Oliver stood there, still wearing his suit, though he'd shucked the jacket and tie. His white button up was undone at the throat, and his sleeves were folded up to his elbows. He leaned against the edge of the door, his face wearing the soft look he often wore when he looked at her, his hands in the pockets of his pants. There was a trace of guilt in his eyes, and Felicity knew he'd realized how badly he'd behaved.

With a sigh, she headed up the stone steps, to meet him at the door. He made no move to stand back, to let her through, so she stopped. Facing him, with her hands shoved in her pockets, she lifted her chin, meeting his eyes in a refusal to apologize for being angry. They stared each other down, both being stubborn, neither wanting to be the first to speak.

Finally, Oliver relented. "I'm sorry, Felicity." he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"For what, exactly?" she pressed, needing to hear him say it.

"For losing it with the photographer. For not keeping my word, and letting my anger get in the way of being there for you, when you were struggling with your fear. For the way I acted in the restaurant. I can keep going, if that's not enough." A half smile pulled up one corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, too." Felicity admitted, her tone tired. Oliver's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Not for being angry, or for shouting at you, because you absolutely deserved it. But, because I made you think that I was afraid of you. I've seen you go full-on Arrow, but I've never been afraid of you, a day in my life, Oliver."

"The way you looked at me when I got in the car... I really thought I scared you, and that's not something I'd ever want to do."

Felicity lifted a hand to cup his cheek. "Never." she promised. "Think about it this way: I find it very difficult to be truly afraid of a man whose eyes get misty during those sad puppy commercials for the ASPCA."

"You swore you'd never tell anyone about that." he reminded her, grinning.

"I'm a woman of my word." She grinned back, stepping forward to brush her lips over his. She gazed up at him, as his arms came around her waist. "So, did Detective Lance call yet?"

Oliver chuckled, pressing his forehead to hers. "About twenty minutes ago. Apparently, the photographer has a history of antagonizing his subjects. There's been a bunch of complaints filed against him as it is. So, Lance doubts that he'll file charges, as long as I cover his medical expenses. Not to mention, if he did file, you could press assault charges for his stunt with your wrist."

"Well, that's something, at least. It's broken, right?" she questioned, referring to the man's jaw.

"Oh, yeah." Oliver smiled, proud of himself. "In two places."

"Try not to sound so pleased about it." She shook her head, shoving at his chest.

"The guy deserved it, Felicity." Oliver reiterated, as he stepped back to let her into the kitchen.

"You know, there's something else we need to talk about." Felicity changed the subject, unwiling to discuss the incident, further.

Oliver looked at her questioningly, as she shrugged out of her jacket. He followed her through, to the living room, where she deposited her coat over the back of the sofa, and sank down into the cushions.

"What's that?" Oliver inquired, curious.

"Is there going to be an official announcement, that you're off the market? Or, are we just going to let people continue to assume whatever they want?" Felicity raised a brow in question.

"It's up to you." Oliver told her. "If you want to make an announcement, we can do that. If you want to keep things the way they are, we can do that, too. Whatever you're comfortable with, is alright with me."

"I'm comfortable with the entire world knowing that you belong to me." Felicity smirked, as Oliver plopped down on the couch, beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I've belonged to you for years." he informed her, as she shifted, to lay her head in his lap, kicking off her heels, and propping her feet up, on the arm of the sofa..

"But, I've never gotten to announce it to the world."

"Isn't that what engagement announcements are for?" Oliver asked, as he let his head fall back against the back of the couch, smiling like an idiot at the ceiling.

Felicity stiffened, her stomach flip flopping, as her pulse took off in a gallop. "True." She swallowed around the ball of nerves in her throat. "But, we're not engaged."

"Well, no." Oliver conceded, her nervousness somehow making his seem less intense. He'd broached the subject, simply to gauge her reaction, curious as to how she felt about the idea, which they'd never discussed. "Though, according to Digg, we're already practically married."

Felicity chuckled anxiously. "Thea, too."

"My point is, we can wait to make any kind of announcement, until we have something to announce, other than the fact that we're actually together, now." Oliver looked down at her, his eyes searching her expression. Her nose was wrinkled, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Unless, you want to make an announcement now. People already assume we're together, so it hardly seems necessary, does it?"

"I suppose not." Felicity murmured, feeling a little lightheaded, and thankful that her head was pillowed on his lap. His casual mention of engagement made her feel just a tiny bit flustered. "Though, I'd still like to make us _publicly_ official."

Oliver considered her point, a plan slowly forming in his mind. "I have an idea. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do." Felicity answered immediately.

"Good. How would you like to be my date for a charity gala next Saturday?"

Felicity narrowed her eyes. The charity gala he referred to was being hosted by one, Patrick McCrane. He was a prominent member of the Irish mob syndicate in New York City, who had relocated to Starling City after serving time for drug trafficking. He was currently in The Arrow's sights, due to his involvement in bringing drugs, as well as heavy weaponry, into Starling City, and its surrounding areas.

"Are you asking me on a date, or on a mission?" Felicity challenged.

"Two birds, one stone?" Oliver shrugged, grinning down at her.

Felicity contemplated her response, for much less time than an entirely sane person might. "Charity gala, it is."


	19. Full Of Surprises

**Author's note: As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I am beyond grateful that all of you truly seem to enjoy this story. **

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Digg asked, from the front seat of the Bentley, as he pulled up to the curb, in front of Queen Consolidated.

"I can't hide, forever." Felicity smiled tightly in his direction, as she tried to take a few steadying breaths.

Oliver's fingers wrapped around her hand, drawing her attention. "You'll be fine." he assured her. "I'll be right beside you, the whole time."

Felicity nodded, as she looked beyond him, through the heavily tinted windows, to the sidewalk. There was already a swell of reporters trying to push through security, vying for a chance to grab a quote, or just a picture, of Felicity and Oliver.

"How did they even know I was going to be here?" Felicity questioned, out loud. The question had been the first thought to cross her mind, when she'd spotted the horde.

Oliver shrugged, but she could read the tightness in his jaw, and shoulders. "You don't have to do this, Felicity. Digg can take you home, if you're not ready." He turned toward her, hopeful that she'd take the out.

Felicity squared her shoulders, exhaling slowly. "No, I can do this. I need to do this."

"Alright." Diggle nodded, exiting the driver's side.

"Hey." Olivers murmured. Felicity raised her eyes to his, and he gave her an encouraging smile. "I'm right here." He leaned forward, to press a lingering kiss to her lips, just as John opened his door.

Oliver unfolded from the backseat, and then held a hand out to pull her up, with him. Felicity took a deep breath, slipped her hand into his, and let him tug her out of the car. As soon as her head cleared the door, a wave of noise and flashbulbs crashed over her. Oliver tucked her against his body, and she was quickly flanked on her other side by Digg. Together, they guided her toward the glass doors of the building, staunchly ignoring the questions shouted through the chaos.

Once they made it through the doors of the lobby, and put glass between them and the commotion outside, Felicity felt herself relax, marginally. Inside of QC, she was comfortable. Within these walls, she could breathe a little more freely, and let her shoulders sag in relief.

Oliver turned her to face him, his hand coming up to curl around the column of her neck, his thumb caressing her jaw. "See?" he said softly, flashing her a small smile. "Nothing to it."

Felicity laughed, leaning into his touch. "Yeah, nothing at all."

She let him lead her to the elevator, stopping briefly along the way to say good morning to Carl. Once inside the elevator's car, she felt herself relax a fraction more. Oliver was to her right, with his hand in the small of her back, and Diggle was in front of them, hands clasped at belt level.

"Starling art museum?" Felicity asked, her tone hushed.

Oliver smirked. They'd been playing this game, all morning. "Not even close."

"Indoors or outdoors?" she pressed. Curiosity was eating her alive, but Oliver wasn't budging.

"A little bit of both." he hinted, careful to keep his responses vague.

"Does it involve anything that I might find terrifying?"

"Heights."

Felicity, assuming Oliver was joking, chuckled. Oliver just kept smirking, and she felt a tiny ripple of apprehension run through her. The elevator doors slid open just as another question hit the tip of her tongue. She swallowed it, and they followed Digg onto the floor. Oliver steered her toward the conference room, where a few board members had already begun to congregate.

"Ah, Felicity!" Charlie O'Brien greeted her, arms outstretched. "It's so good to see you! You look well." He beamed.

Felicity hugged him, an experience that always reminded her of hugging her father. "Thank you, Charlie. I'm feeling well." She returned his smile, and then stepped away, to greet the other members of the board.

"Mrs. Queen." Felicity nodded to Moira, who smiled fondly.

"Felicity." She dipped her chin, and headed for Oliver.

John came up beside Felicity, shadowing her, while she made her way around the room, shaking hands and making small talk. She was pleased to find that she slipped back into her role of the ever-professional EA to the CEO, seamlessly.

Oliver cleared his throat, to call the room to attention, when the entirety of the board was present, along with Charlie, and several other big wigs from the Applied Sciences division.

"Thank you, everyone, for being here. I know it's early, and there are other things we'd all like to be doing, but this vote is a pivotal step in the combining of two of our departments." Oliver's voice boomed off the glass walls.

Felicity recalled him mentioning two departments, and once again, found herself wondering which was the second.

"Charles?" Oliver motioned to the older man, indicating that he had the floor.

Oliver settled into the seat between his mother and Felicity, his eyes straight ahead.

"Thank you, Mr Queen." Charlie nodded, standing at the opposite end of the conference table. He offered Felicity a quick grin, before he began. "As many of you know, I've been the department head of the Applied Sciences division for the better part of thirty years. Within the last decade, the advancements made in technology have greatly impacted our field, making our interactions with the IT department more necessary than in decades past. Having an IT expert on hand, has become not just a good idea, but a basic necessity. Which is why, I proposed this new position be created, as soon as the funds became available."

"You have our full support on the creation of the position, Charles." Moira promised, referring to herself and Oliver.

Oliver gave a sharp nod, conveying his agreement. "The board has been notified of your request, as to who you'd like to see take up the post, should it be approved for implementation."

Felicity watched every head in the room bob in acknowledgment.

"So, if there are no objections, I'd like to put both to vote. Majority rules, but I'll hear any opposition." Oliver announced, with a sweeping gaze around the room.

Felicity felt herself grin at the way he commanded the room, every eye on him. He really had grown into his CEO role, nicely, over the years.

"Those in favor of the new position?" Moira asked the room.

Every member of the board raised their hand, not a single objection to be heard. Charlie smiled widely, and Felicity couldn't help but mirror the expression, pleased for her mentor, and friend.

"As far as filling the position, we'll do a silent vote. You each have a ballot in your proposal folders, with the name of Charles' requested employee, as well as a space fore a write-in, should you disagree with the request." Moira advised. "Mark your vote, and Oliver will collect them."

Charles winked at Felicity, and she found herself feeling nervous for him. She mentally crossed her fingers that this vote went the way he was hoping. Each member of the board, fifteen in total, counting Moira and Oliver, cast their vote, folded their card, and handed them to Oliver, as he made his way around the table.

"Miss Smoak?" Oliver called from the other end of the room.

Her head snapped up. "Yes, Mr. Queen?"

"Would you please go to my office and bring back the folder that's sitting on my desk?"

Confused, Felicity nodded, rising from her seat. She made her way through the doors, and down the hall to Oliver's office, with Diggle right behind her.

"Do I even want to ask?" She questioned Digg, as she strode across the marble floor, toward Oliver's desk.

"I have a feeling you'll find out, soon enough, anyway." Digg told her, cryptically.

Felicity shifted through the papers on the desk, only finding one folder bearing the QC logo on its front. She scooped it up, and headed back to where Digg stood, by the door. "I'm not sure who's better at this whole cryptic response thing, you, or Oliver." She poked him lightly in the chest, and he grinned.

"Oliver." Digg chuckled. "I'm just following orders."

With a sigh, Felicity left the office, following the hallway back to the conference room. When she entered, she saw Oliver had reclaimed his seat, at the head of the table. She handed him the requested folder, as she slid back into her own chair, on his left side.

He thanked her quietly, pushing the folder off to the side, without so much as glancing at it. Felicity arced a brow, but he was busy pushing away from the table, to stand, so he didn't notice.

"The votes have been counted, and recounted." Oliver announced. Felicity, curious to see how it played out, straightened in her chair, unconsciously shifting forward. "Charles, your request has been approved."

Charlie's smile was contagious, and Felicity could feel the happiness radiating off of him from the other end of the table. "Thank you, Mr. Queen, Mrs. Queen. Members of the board." Charlie was so thrilled, his eyes were shining with it, as he thanked the board.

Oliver's own smile was breathtaking. Felicity found herself surprised that this smile, the one he only wore around those closest to him, was making an appearance in the boardroom.

"I'd like to be the first, to officially introduce all of you to the new IT liaison for the Applied Sciences division." Oliver proclaimed, extending his left arm. "Felicity Smoak."

* * *

Felicity spent the next fifteen minutes numbly shaking hands with members of the board, keeping a tight smile plastered on her face, to the point that her cheeks actually hurt. Charlie gave her a congratulatory hug, and promised to introduce her to the other members of his team as soon as she was officially back to work.

The room slowly emptied, leaving a shell shocked Felicity standing at the end of the table, right beside the chair she'd been occupying, while Oliver said goodbye to the board members. Diggle was positioned by the door, clearly keen to keep himself out of the line of fire, should Felicity decide to explode.

Moira smiled, and congratulated her, with a gentle squeeze of her hand, and Felicity had to force herself to say thank you.

As Moira left the room, Oliver turned to Felicity, his eyes dancing with light. "Congratulations, Miss Smoak." He grinned.

Felicity opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. Swallowing, to clear the blockage, she tried again. "Did you do this?" Her words holding an accusatory edge.

Oliver's smile slipped, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Did I do what?"

"Did you fix it so that I would get this position? Was this entire thing, your doing?" Felicity questioned, her hands coming up to settle on her hips. She couldn't believe that she's gotten this position on her own merit, alone.

"I had nothing to do with it, Felicity." Oliver sighed, rubbing a hand over the stubble at his chin. "Charles asked for you, specifically. There's no one at this company, hell probably in the world, who can do what you can do with technology. Charles knows it, and obviously, so does the board."

"You knew about it, this whole time, though. Didn't you?" she challenged. Her thoughts were scattered, and she was having a hard time simply accepting this turn of events. "Yesterday, when you asked me to come to this meeting, you knew, and you didn't tell me."

"I thought you'd be excited! You get to work in both departments, with no one above you. You get to call all of your own shots, and the only person you have to answer to, is me. You hate being my EA, full time, Felicity. I thought this would make you happy." Oliver defended himself. He couldn't understand why she was reacting this way.

"I don't hate being your EA, Oliver!" Felicity said, surprised that he still thought that. "Yeah, when I started, I hated it but, I've been doing this for five and a half years. I love working right beside you. I love my job!"

Oliver's brows furrowed further, if that were even possible. "This is your chance to get back into IT, Felicity. The pay is better, and you have much more freedom and flexibility. You'll still be by my side for meetings. I can even hire a part time assistant, to pick up the slack. It's entirely up to you."

Felicity snorted, and Oliver heard Digg echo the sentiment from across the room.

"What am I missing?" Oliver asked, glancing from one of them, to the other.

"Oliver, you can't really be this clueless!" Felicity half shouted, before she managed to reign herself in. She took a calming breath, and in a much quieter tone, continued. "You know what? It's fine. I don't want to argue with you."

Oliver stared at her, sure that this was a test, and he was going to fail it, spectacularly. "You're still upset." He eyed her, speculatively.

"Obviously." Felicity rolled her eyes. "But, I really don't want to fight."

"Are you upset with me, or with the position?" he asked, stepping closer to where she stood. He wasn't about to let this discussion drop, without understanding why she was angry.

"The position is amazing, Oliver. It's a wonderful opportunity." She crossed her arms over her chest, defiantly.

"So, then, it's me you're angry with?" Oliver frowned, coming to a stop a few inches in front of her.

"Yes."

"Because, I didn't tell you about the position?" He reluctantly guessed.

"Because, you didn't ask me if this was something that I wanted." Felicity explained. "You didn't even think to consult me on a decision that changed a very important aspect of my life."

Oliver considered her words, and his response, carefully. "I didn't ask, because I wanted to surprise you. I know you, well enough to know, that this was an opportunity you wouldn't pass up."

"I understand that, and in theory, it was kind of sweet of you." she admitted, fidgeting under his gaze. "But, in practice, it makes me feel like I have no say over my own future. I don't want to _not_ be your EA, anymore." Her bottom lip stuck out, just a hint.

Oliver couldn't resist the smile fighting its way onto his lips. "You're still my EA, Felicity. No one could do that job like you do. You just have more responsibility, now. No more spending long hours, just sitting at your desk, watching old episodes of Doctor Who."

Felicity grinned, despite herself. "You don't know me."

"Oh, yes I do." Oliver chuckled. "Which is how I know that you're not angry anymore, and you're going to accept the position, without resorting to the use of your loud voice, again. At least, for today."

"I have two stipulations." Felicity met his eye, stiffening her spine, resolutely.

"And what might those be?" he asked, warily.

"You don't hire a part time assistant, unless it becomes absolutely necessary." Oliver nodded his agreement. "And, I get to fire Leena, when the time comes." Felicity grinned.

Oliver laughed, again, extending his right hand, until she reached out to grasp it. "Deal."

* * *

Felicity descended the stairs of the Queen mansion, to find Oliver waiting at the bottom, a secretive smile playing at his lips. His eyes scanned over her body, taking in her tight blue jeans, and long sleeved orange top, that clung to her body like a second skin.

"Are these better?" she asked, lifting her foot to show him her white sneakers.

"Yes, much better." Oliver nodded, holding her white sweater out, for her to slip her arms into it.

"I don't suppose you'd like to explain why heels and a skirt were a bad idea?" she ventured, as she pulled her ponytail free from her sweater.

"You'll see why, when we get there." he answered vaguely.

"Have I ever told you that I hate surprises?" Felicity pouted, letting him wrap her arm through his, and lead her outside, to the SUV he had waiting.

Oliver chuckled. "You love surprises, Felicity."

"Only if I don't know that they're coming!" she scoffed, as he held the passenger side door open for her, and she climbed into the seat.

Oliver shook his head as he walked around the car, slipping in beside her. "Just relax and enjoy the ride, okay?"

Felicity narrowed her eyes, turning in her seat to face him. "You agreed to let me pester you, remember?"

"And, you've done a fantastic job of it, so far." he teased, as he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine sparked to life. "But, we have a long ride ahead of us and, I'd rather spend it enjoying your company, than fielding questions about our destination."

"Fair enough." she conceded, reluctantly.

With an exaggerated sigh of relief, Oliver gave her a wink, and pulled away from the house. Felicity took a minute to fiddle with the radio stations, finally landing on a classic rock station that they could both agree on. She settled back, into her seat, and clicked her seat belt into place, as music filled the car.

Neither of them spoke, enjoying the comfortable silence, as Oliver navigated north, toward the coast. With every passing mile, the scenery changed. Oliver forwent the interstate, opting to take the scenic route to their undisclosed destination. Felicity enjoyed watching their surroundings gradually shift from quiet suburban roads, into winding coastal highways, bordered, on one side, by the ocean, and mountains, on the other.

"I haven't been this far outside the city in ages." Felicity murmured, an hour outside of Starling, as she watched the water sparkle through the window.

"Me either." Oliver agreed. "I figured it was about time we made the trip."

"Are we going to the beach?" She hazarded a guess.

"Not exactly." Oliver answered, evasively.

Not wanting to push her luck, Felicity restrained herself from asking the questions that filled her mind.

Oliver could see the curiosity written on every inch of her face, as she physically bit her lip to hold back the questions. Rolling his eyes, he chuckled. "Two more."

"Two more, what?" Felicity asked, making her tone as uninterested as she could.

"You can have two more questions. Use them wisely." he advised.

Her mouth curved into a smile, and Oliver felt warmth flood through him. After a few minutes of deliberation, Felicity decided on her next question. "Does your plan include any mode of transportation, other than this car?"

"Yes." Oliver smirked. Damn, but, his girl was good at this game.

She fell silent, but he could feel the wheels turning in her head, as he took a left off of the main road, onto one that was more narrow, and rugged. Ten minutes passed, as he drove, and she contemplated her last query.

Finally, she turned in her seat, facing him. "Is the mode of transport one we've done together, in the past?"

Oliver already knew the answer to that. "Definitely not."

She accepted his response, with a triumphant smile. Seemingly submerging herself in ideas of what the surprise might be, they slipped, once more, into an easy silence. Twenty minutes later, Oliver turned onto a dirt road, lined by forest, and Felicity sat up straighter in her seat. They continued on the road for five minutes longer, until they reached the end, where the trees opened up into an impressive clearing. Sitting, silently, in the middle of the field, was the last thing Felicity would have guessed.

"Oliver?" Felicity whispered, her hand coming across the console to grip his forearm.

He grinned, laying his hand reassuringly over hers. "Surprise."


End file.
